


Isn't it delicate?

by alivealivealive



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Fake Friendship, Fluff, M/M, Post canon, They're actually dating, chilling, uni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivealivealive/pseuds/alivealivealive
Summary: Set 6 months after Carry on ends. In which they go back to Baz's mansion for Christmas but his father still doesn't know they're actually dating.Also, It's almost their one-year anniversary and they haven't "done it". Or dropped the "L" bomb. You know the drill.And... they're applying to Uni, so they might have to do some digging on Simon's official documents.





	1. It's going to be a long road.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I'm back with another story!! This one is set right after Carry on and it's pretty canon. Please let me know if there are any grammar mistakes because English isn't my first language, so it would really help me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!! Thank you so much!
> 
> Lot of love,
> 
> M.P.

_Baz_

It’s almost Christmas again, and my gap semester has come to an end. I have (mostly) completed the paperwork and assessments that are required to get into London School of Economics, which, coming from Watford, even if you’re at top of your class is sort of a lot. 

There’s a lot of grades matching and turning your transcript into a Normal one involved, as well as catching up with regular Birth Certificates and IDs. And studying some of the most important courses Normals take is also a part of it, because you need this knowledge to apply to University. That’s why I took the liberty to start in the Spring semester, instead of in the fall. Simon still hasn’t figured it out properly, but he’s starting to get his documents together and he also already did the Normal classes.

It’s almost Christmas again, which can only mean two things. One, I have to go back home to see my family. Turns out, the holes in the magickal atmosphere are actually closing. The one in Hampshire is almost closed, and it’s expected for it to be fully functional by late December, which is why father insisted we go back to my childhood home to celebrate.

Secondly, it’s almost my one-year anniversary with my stupid boyfriend, Simon Snow, which never, ever in a million years thought would happen, let alone think about how we’d be celebrating. I desperately want him to come to Hampshire with me, just like last year, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say no.

Which also brings me to think about the fact that my father doesn’t explicitly knows we’re dating, just that we see each other a lot. But he also thinks Snow’s straight, so there’s that.

Even though it’s been a whole year, we still haven’t slept together (I mean, we sleep in the same bed a lot), we just haven’t _done it._ We’ve messed around quite a bit though, which unsurprisingly, the Chosen One is good at, too. 

_Simon_

I’m sitting in my desk, going through some Biology questionnaires, because these are the ones I’ve found a bit more interesting, and since I’m still trying to decide what I want to do, it’s helping.

Baz comes in, candy drink in hand and sits on my bed, with his back against the headboard. I spin my chair to look at him.

“There’s a week until Christmas.” He says innocently, and I already know what’s coming. He has been sending me cryptic messages for weeks now, insinuating I go to Hampshire with him. I look at him and wait. “Where are you planning to spend it?”

I sigh and then brace myself. “Here.” I put a finger in the air before he continues. “I’m planning on finishing my paperwork and talking to my therapist. Also, takeaway and baking.”

“No. You can’t spend the Holidays alone, Snow.” 

“I’ve nowhere else to be. Penny’s going to America and you’re going home. It’ll be fun, Baz.” He places his hand on top of my thigh and starts tracing circles softly.

“You’ve got… me. Come home with me.” He says, deliberately looking at my thigh. I can’t help but smile a little.

“Baz, it’s just. It’s going to be really awkward for your family, yeah? I’ll be fine here.”

“No.”

“What a good argument.” I deadpan. He rolls his eyes.

“Look, Snow. Christmas is going to be fun with Mordelia and the kids, and besides…aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Yeah. _Our anniversary_. I’m sure Malcom won’t appreciate us celebrating in his property. Baz, we’ll just celebrate before or after the break.”

Somehow this manages to piss him off a bit. He takes a drink of his coffee and closes his eyes.

“Merlin. If I don’t tell him, would you be more comfortable?”

I take a second to think this through. While I’m not ashamed of dating Baz, I’ve just been trying to figure myself out, and we agreed we’d wait until I felt more at peace to announce our relationship. All of our Instagram posts have been joined hand photos, cropped pictures in candlelit dinners, us wearing each other’s clothes, but nothing that straight up gives away who we’re dating. Our faces aren’t in those pictures at all.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Let me think about this tonight, yeah?” I grab the hand that’s on my thigh, bringing it to my lips and he sighs softly. It’s so odd to me how physical affection came so easily to us. Especially when we’re like this, talking about something important, alone.

_Baz_

Snow ends up agreeing to come with me, under the pretense that we’re really good friends now that the Mage is dead, we’re not really on opposite sides anymore. The Families now have this sort of morbid curiosity to know what Simon is up to these days. They try to grill father about him at every single Coven meeting, but since I tell him nothing, he never has anything scandalous to say about my boyfriend.

As if I’d ever let them hurt him. Even if it’s just with their strange, inquisitive stares.

I call Fiona to let her know we’re actually going to Hampshire. 

“Fiona, we’re going to spend Christmas with Father. Are you staying in London?”

“We are? As in you and your bloke?”

“Yes.” I can hear her smiling on the other side of the phone. I brace myself.

“Boyo, you’re going to shag the Chosen One at your Father’s historical mansion? Ballsy.”

I blush. And curse. “Fuck, Fiona. We’re not going to”

She’s laughing for a couple more seconds and I briefly consider hanging up.

“I never knew you were into playing hide and seek, Basil.”

“We’re not doing that, Fiona. We’re just not going to explicitly reveal we’re together.”

She snorts. “Good luck with Daphne not noticing. I’m staying here, Boyo.”

“Yes. Okay. I’ll bring your Christmas gift when we come back.”

“You better. And Basil?”

“Mmm?”

“Remember to use a soundproofing spell.” 

“Goodbye, Fiona.” I hang up, but I make a mental note to remember it. 

Just in case.

 _Simon_

December 20th rolls around, and I wake up to my vampire boyfriend laying in my bed, poking me with his finger on my ribs. The room is still dark and feels toasty, because he insists we have to turn the radiator on if he sleeps here.

“Snow, wake up.”

“S’only 6 am” He pulls himself closer to me and places a kiss under my ear. 

“You said you’d pack before we left, come on. Up you go.” I roll my eyes but get up, sauntering into the bathroom for my morning shower before I actually have to function. 

When I come out of my shower, still in my towel, Baz is still in bed, but he’s scrolling through his phone. He smiles when he sees me, but quickly puts on a serious face. 

I pack some of my clothes and decide to bring the suit that he bought me as a “6-month-gift”. It’s a classic black suit, with its matching thin, black tie and crisp white shirt. I’m sure this kind of suit is coincidentally the kind that celebrities buy to collect awards. It probably costed more than an old car. Still, he insisted and insisted and said the gift was more for him, so. 

I also pack my backpack and put some of the few documents that I have, hoping to get the paperwork done with Baz’s help, because he’s pretty much done now. Once I’m done, we have a small breakfast consisting of ham and cheese toasties and tea and we head out.

The drive is pretty calm, mostly because Baz is an excellent driver. He never messes around while he’s driving and rarely takes his eyes off the road. We listen to some of his music (old rock music and some Taylor Swift songs) and some of mine (pretty much anything) while we drive.

 _Baz_

I’m nervous because even though I’m trying to play it cool, I don’t know how Father will react to me bringing Simon here. He places his hand on my knee and I take one of mine and lace my fingers with his. We’re on a clear road, there’s only trees ahead of us for miles. We’re only about 15 minutes away now.

“Love” It still marvels me when Simon calls me pet names, because for one, he rarely does, and I never thought I’d hear those words directed at me from his pretty mouth, ever.

“Yes?”

“It’s okay if I have to leave, yeah? I don’t want you to be upset if your Father says I have to get back, like it’s no big deal.”

I roll my eyes and look at him briefly. “Yeah like I’d let you.” He starts to talk but I interrupt him. “Snow, you’re not going to be alone in that apartment, doing God knows what.”

He smiles and then says. “Are we going to pretend to be friends, then?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want. But they’ll have to find out, eventually.”

“Okay”

Once we get home, I park on the garage that is furthest from the entrance, specifically for what I’m about to do now. Once we get out of the car, Snow takes out our suitcases and is standing there, by the trunk. He’s smiles at me and he’s bad news. He grabs my face with both hands and pushes me into the back of the car while his lips connect to mine.

It’s sort of expected but it still makes me gasp. I’m never going to be over Snow snogging me senseless. 

I’m holding him by the waist, under his jacket and his lips are slow, wanting. Like we’re saying goodbye. We are, in a way. Saying goodbye to snogging for a week. Merlin, this is going to be a long week. 

When we break apart, I smile and he’s panting. Obviously, he says, “That’s what friends are for.”

“Shut up, Snow. Play the part.” He smiles and kisses my cheek one last time before grabbing his suitcase.

Once we’re inside, Daphne comes to greet us and she’s all hugs and kind smiles for Simon. I hug her and I’m actually glad to see her. I like Daphne, she’s never tried to force me to treat her like a mother, and she’s always been kind to me. I owe her a lot.

“Basilton, I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been so long.” She says this as she hugs me tightly. She smells like honey and expensive wood.

“I’m happy to be here, Daphne. Is Father home?” I ask, hoping inside me that he isn’t, just to delay the unavoidable for a bit.

“No, he’s going to be out until dinner.”

Once she hugs him, Simon speaks, “Mrs. Grimm, I’m glad you’d have me again for Christmas.”

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you came, Mr. Snow. Please follow me. I’ll show you the guest room.” I smile a little at this.

“Please call me Simon.”

“Of course, Simon.” 

She leads us towards the top floor, and to my own surprise, she gives him the White room, which is literally at the other side of the Estate from mine. And next to Father’s. _Merlin._ I feel myself blush and pray that this is a coincidence.

“Simon, we just renovated some of this room. We brought new furniture in, and luckily, the wraiths are gone. Please make yourself at home”

At this point, I’m desperate to know if she _knows_ we’re dating, but she seems innocent. Objectively, the room is beautiful. One wall is made of floor-to-ceiling French windows, and the rest is white walls and a beautiful, dark wood floor. There’s a big four-poster bed, already made up in all white Egyptian Cotton bedsheets and a desk, just by the corner, with some books in it. 

There’s a few historical paintings hanging from the wall and a couple small, photo frames on the nightstand. These are new. One is my headshot from graduation day, which I’m sure Snow will steal. Probably. And then he’ll give me shit about it.  
The other is an old photo, of my mother in her wedding dress. I’ve seen this before. It’s hanging in the hall, but I didn’t know there was a smaller version of it around. Interesting. 

It makes me wonder if they’re using a picture of my mother, as a mood-killer.

Once Daphne leaves, Simon giggles and looks at me.

“I have a feeling they know. They even threw the wraiths out.” 

I roll my eyes but extend my arm to bring him into my chest. I hold him. “Snow”

The afternoon goes by in a blur and we spend it in my actual room. I unpack while Snow watches and then we lay down to watch a film. I’m planning on introducing Snow to the world of Wes Anderson. 

I’m lying on his chest and my laptop is on his thighs, when someone knocks at the door. Snow literally bolts and sits on the couch, on the other side of my room and pretends to be on _my_ laptop.  
“Yes?” I say, loudly. 

When the door opens, Vera is leaning against the doorframe. She has a knowing look on her face. It’s unnerving. “Mr. Pitch, your Father sent me to get you for dinner.”

“Very well, we’ll be down shortly. Thank you, Vera.”

We don’t get changed, I just lead Snow towards the dining table, where we sit on opposite sides. Simon shakes Father’s hand and Father stares him down.  
Father is sitting next to me and Daphne is next to Simon. There’s roast beef and all kinds of side dishes. We normally never have this big of a spread on a regular Friday night. 

“Mr. Snow. To what do we owe this visit?”

Snow swallows and I do my best not to stare. I look at the table instead.

“Mr. Grimm, please call me Simon. Um, it’s just. Baz and I have been hanging out in London since we left Watford and I was planning on staying at my flat alone, but he offered to bring me here. It’s okay if I’m not welcome-

For once, I’m thankful Father cuts him off. 

“Nonsense. Now that there’s no conflict of interest, there’s room for the Chosen One.” I cringe, and I can see Simon flexing his hand slowly.

“Thank you, Mr. Grimm.”

“Now that it’s settled, let’s eat. Our meal is getting cold.”

Dinner continues without any mishaps, only the occasional question about life after Watford from Father, but Snow keeps his mouth stuffed most of the time. I can tell he’s enjoying the food. I wish he ate like this more often. I barely eat a piece of meat and a couple of potatoes even though I’m famished.I’ll just eat later. 

Once we’re done, Father gives me a long look, which I know is a warning, but he goes up to his room, so we say goodbye to Daphne and head upstairs.

“Baz. Um, I’m sure it’ll be better if I actually sleep in the white room.” He kisses my cheek and my lips, just once.

“Yeah. Okay.” I’m desperate for him to sleep with me.

He leaves, and I go hunting, then shower and get ready for bed. I’m lying face down when I look at the alarm clock. It’s 11:43. I wonder if he’s actually asleep. For sure, Daphne and Father are. Fuck it. What are they going to do about it? 

I grab my wand and my phone and put on my slippers and head there. I don’t turn on any lights. Thank Crowley for my ability to walk quietly.

Once I’m there, I try the doorknob. It’s unlocked. Typical Snow. I open it and he turns around from where he’s lying, and I put my index finger over my lips, signaling him to shut up. I lock the door and use a soundproofing spell, just in case they hear us talking. 

“Baz, what the fuck?” But he scoots over, leaving half of the bed empty for me. The room is freezing because the window is cracked open and the curtains are drawn. I notice he’s wearing sweatpants and nothing else. 

“You said you had to sleep in this room. You didn’t say you had to do it alone.”

He snorts, but then he comes up behind me and spoons me, placing his arm around my waist. _Home._

“Baz, they’ll realize you’re not in your bed.”

“Shh, I’ll just put on an alarm, Simon.”

“You’re an absolute nightmare.”

“But you lo-like me.” Shit. I hope he didn’t notice. _Love me?_ Where did that even come from?

He places a kiss on the back of my neck. “That I do.”

I fall asleep to his soothing breath on my neck, feeling warm all the way to my core.


	2. Call it what you want to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If fifteen-year-old-Basil could hear me thinking right now, he’d vomit. 
> 
> Just one year ago, I’d think about marrying Agatha to piss him off. As if it was something that could be done so lightly, so unimportantly. 12 months after, I’m thinking about marrying him (and feeling like crying about how in love I’m with him)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I'm sorry it took a while, but I've been having exams. I hope you like this chapter!! It's pure fluff and Baz being sulky. They also discuss a bit about when they want to announce their relationship.
> 
> I hope you're all doing well!!!
> 
> I love getting comments and kudos, they truly help me feel motivated to write!!! Thank you so much for your support.  
> I'm sorry it's kinda short.  
> -MP

_Simon_

When I wake up, Baz is already gone even though it’s only 7 am. I take the time to shower and dress as nicely as I can (nice jeans and a white t-shirt) to hang out here.

We have breakfast with his siblings and Daphne quietly and they chat about both magickal and normal politics and I’m surprisingly comfortable, drinking my coffee and eating some waffles and fruit.

I’m not really thinking about anything, but just enjoying the moment, just like my therapist likes to remind me. Daphne asks me about my application to school and I decide she must know about this so I ask her stuff about paperwork. I need my birth certificate to apply to Uni, but being in my condition, I don’t even know if it actually exists.

“There must be one, Simon. If you lived in a home for those years, whoever put you in there every summer had to manage your paperwork.”

It stings a bit but I don’t think she knows the Mage did that stuff. 

“Oh, okay. Do you think you know where I could, um find them?”

Baz rolls his eyes and this time he speaks.

“Well, the Mage must have had them somewhere, but we’re not going to get into that. So, naturally, there must be a copy at the General Register.” 

“Okay.”

“Perhaps you could take him, Basil. You’ll only need a few hours and it’ll be…educative.” Daphne says, placing her hand over his. He doesn’t flinch.

“Yes. Let’s go tomorrow, Snow.”

Once we’re done with breakfast, Daphne takes the kids upstairs, except for Mordelia, who lingers, chatting with Baz. Vera comes in and starts taking the dishes toward the kitchen. 

Mordelia is bubbly and in a good mood. She takes Baz’s hand and starts pulling. “Can we bake some cookies?”

“No. Vera can make some for you, right, Vera?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Pitch.”

“But then it will be no fun.” She’s pouting and she’s so cute and I can’t resist.

I speak softly, and Baz turns around, with a frown on his face. “I’ll help you make them, kid”

He closes his eyes. 

“Yes!!! Can your friend help me? I promise they’ll be yummy.” She’s smiling so big and is already walking into the kitchen.

_Baz_

I settle in the kitchen table while I pretend to read, while I’m actually going to stare at Snow for the whole time.  
Why did I even agree to this? 

I didn’t think they’d get along this well, because Mordelia has her edge and she can be difficult if she puts her mind to it, but here they are. Simon is teaching her how to crack eggs into a bowl.

Vera left us and now there’s only the three of us here, and I’m supposed to be distracted so It takes all my willpower to not comment on what they’re doing.

“Chosen one, how did you learn how to make these?” Merlin. I don’t know if it’s making him uncomfortable, but I try to make eye contact and he smiles and nods.

“Um, well when I was in care, sometimes they’d teach us how to make them, so we could sell them. Then they’d use the money to buy us cheap gifts.”

_Fuck._ Now I feel like crying. I imagine a scrawny Snow, wearing his little dirty trackies and a Christmas hat, sitting in a table outside a store, selling cookies. I hide behind my book.

“What does it mean to be in care?” She asks, and I know she’s not being malicious, but still.

“Ah. Um well, I am an orphan, so like, I don’t have a mum or a dad, so I had to live in these homes with other boys who were just like me.” 

Her little mouth forms and O and then, she does the most un-Mordelia thing ever. She hugs his arm, and now for real, a tear escapes me, but I wipe it while they’re not looking.

“It’s okay, little one. Just one thing?”

“What?”

“Call me Simon”

She smiles, and he smiles right back. “It’s a deal.” 

They keep on working and he’s so gentle. Merlin, I’m so in love. He looks so beautiful, being patient with my sister, listening to her questions and explaining things to her.

I know in this moment, I’m never going to love anyone the way I love Simon Snow. I could put a ring around his finger right now. I would get down on one knee for him. _Not that it’s going to happen at all. Or that he’d accept it. Or that it could happen soon. But still._

_I can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet the love of my life at 11._ Also, if fifteen-year-old-Basil could hear me thinking right now, he’d vomit. Back then, I used to try and tell myself that what I felt about Snow was lust. I used to think being in love was a myth and everyone would just “fall in love” conveniently according to their life and financial plans. 

Just one year ago, I’d think about marrying Agatha to piss him off. As if it was something that could be done so lightly, so unimportantly. 12 months after, I’m thinking about marrying him (and feeling like crying about how in love I’m with him) 

I don’t actually think he’s in love with me. I’m not that delusional, but I know for sure he likes me. He’s all over me all the time and Merlin knows I enjoy it, but deep down I don’t think we’ll last for…well, forever. One day he’ll eventually find someone else and that’s going to be fine. But for me, it’ll always be him. 

I can’t process all that I’m feeling right now, not when he’s here, looking so handsome and being so damn lovable, so I take my book and silently head to the library. Playing my violin will help me sort things out in my head. 

I’m playing for a while, so damn grateful that I brought it with me. I’m facing the window, so I don’t really notice he’s walked in until he places a kiss on my hair. I sigh. 

I stop playing and place my violin in its case carefully. He’s holding a plate of cookies in his hand and I can tell he’s excited. He places the plate on the desk. 

“We finished making them, and I thought you’d want to try one.” He shrugs and I get up, walking towards him. 

I don’t know what comes over me, but I sit on the desk, right next to where he set the plate. I’ve never done this. I’m trying to flirt, I guess. 

I take one and I taste it. “This is delicious, Snow.” I mean it. It’s warm and there are nuts on it. I don’t care when he sees me eating anymore. 

He walks to me and now he’s standing between my legs, he places his hands on my thighs. I turn my head just to look at the door. It’s closed. Now he’s taller than me and he’s enjoying it. 

“I think you’ve got a crumb, just here.” He kisses the corner of my lips. _That one was smooth, Simon._ I’m happy I’m sitting down. I close my eyes and lean my face up, waiting for him to kiss me. 

_He does._

His lips are so warm and they taste just like these cookies and him. My hands are tangling in his hair while he’s rubbing my thighs up and down. 

_So much for faking a friendship._

Now, he’s placing small, wet kisses down my neck. I don’t actually know if I can bruise, but It feels so good I don’t care. I swear to Merlin Father could enter this room right now and I wouldn’t care. 

His mouth meets mine right back and now my tongue is on his and he’s kissing me so passionately, it’s turning me on even more. 

He breaks apart but smiles against my lips. Softly, he whispers, “I like you”. 

“I like you as well, Snow.” _I’m in love with you._

He kisses my cheek once and I feel a pang in my heart. “I can’t believe we got to have this.” 

“Me neither. And it’s almost been a year.” I hold both of his hands. 

“Thank you for staying with me.” 

“As if I could ever have done anything else.” I know it’s been a long road. But I’ve loved every damned second of it. 

I kiss him one more time and then he speaks. “I’m so happy Mordelia and your siblings get to have a nice Christmas.” 

_This breaks my heart because he didn’t get any of that, ever._

“I’m sad because you didn’t,” I say it as I tangle my fingers with his. 

“S’okay. It’s no one’s fault” 

We stay in the library for a while, planning our trip for tomorrow and then deciding where he wants to eat tomorrow as well. 

_I might take a detour to buy his anniversary gift._

We spend the rest of the afternoon curled up in my bed, pretending we’re actually in separate rooms. First, we start filling out Simon’s application and then we actually nap, tangled with each other. 

We have dinner and then Father calls me into his office. I don’t know what’s coming, but I have a feeling it’s nothing good. 

He’s sitting in his chair, looking through the Magickal Newspaper. I pretend I’m bored. 

“Basilton, take a seat.” 

I sit and wait for him to speak. 

“It came to my attention while I was reading the news, that there’s an article on your…friend.” 

“Oh. Really?” I say it as flatly as I can but I’m freaking out. 

He passes the paper to me, and there’s a large photo of Simon, the very same they took of him at the Leaver’s Ball, even though technically, it wasn’t his actual graduation. He looks dashing. 

The headline is in black, bold letters and they read “One year after the Chosen One’s destiny: What we know.” The choice of words pisses me off right away, but I continue reading. 

It goes on in detail, recalling last year’s events, emphasizing the death of the Mage, the Humdrum vanishing and Simon’s house arrest. It talks a little bit about Bunce and then about Agatha being gone. It’s slightly overdramatized but everything is true. 

_Fuck._ The last paragraph talks about how it was expected for him to be married by now, but it hasn’t been the case. Then it speculates about him being in a new relationship, maybe with Normal girl, according to his social media, and next to this paragraph, there’s a small photo he uploaded on his Instagram about a month ago or so. It’s pretty ambiguous to anyone else, I suppose, but to me, it isn’t. 

_Dating a girl. And a Normal. My ass. As if he isn’t dating me, the heir of the house of Pitch._

It’s his hand on top of mine, a wine glass and a candle in the background. It’s from one night we went to try a new restaurant we’d been eyeing for a while. The food was delicious, and we had a lovely time. We also ended up slightly wine drunk, making out and messing around sloppily in my flat. Fun times. 

I’m sure the memories already colored my cheeks, but I try to look uninterested. 

"Well, it’s what happened, isn’t it?” I fold the paper, planning on showing it to Snow. 

“Do you happen to know if he’s still dating the Wellbelove girl?” Father asks, and I know he’s fishing for information. 

“No.” 

“Very well. Do you know who he’s dating?” 

“Father, I think his private life is none of our concern. Anyone’s, really.” I don’t let him reply. I leave, trying and failing not to run up the stairs. 

He’s sitting at his desk in the white room, scribbling something on his notebook, but I throw the paper right on top of it. 

_“Hey.”_

“Take a look, there’s an article on you.” 

“Okay. Um, you know I don’t care.” He’s been on this very same newspaper frequently after next year, speculating about his house arrest, and a million other things, but they’ve never done any allusion to his personal life. 

Still, he opens it, looking bored until he looks at our photo. 

“Are you mad the photo is out?” 

“No. You already know that’s not important to me.” 

“Then what’s wrong?” He asks and then looks confused. 

“You don’t care they think you’ve moved on?” 

“Well, it’s true.” 

I roll my eyes and laugh. 

“Father gave it to me.” 

He has the decency to look shocked and shrugs. “You can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl. I don’t care.” 

A little more forcefully, to try and get my point across, I say, “I don’t want them to find out like this. One day it won’t be our hands and you know this.” 

“Yeah, okay. We’ll tell them, then.” 

Was it actually this easy? He’s been here for a day and he’s done pretending? They’ve been nice to him and all but I didn't think It'd be enough. 

“It’s not necessary, but it would help, Simon.” 

“I’m not a hundred percent ready, but can we do it when we’re leaving? It’s just- they’ve been so good to me, I’m sure they will change.” 

Truthfully, I don’t think they will. Daphne will like him even more, I think. Father might be another story, but that doesn’t have anything to do with his name, just with the fact that he’s a boy. 

“Only if you want and you’re ready, Snow.” 

That night, after I hunt and shower, I’m getting dressed when I hear a soft knock. I know it’s him, so I just open it and he walks straight into my bed. Once I’m ready, I turn off the lights and slide in next to him. 

“6:30, Simon” I say as I tap the hour into my phone’s alarm. He kisses my cheek. 

“Mm’kay.” 

_And he’s asleep, wrapped around me, his heart beating loudly against my back, full of life and love._


	3. You're my best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what comes over me, but I start laughing, right in the middle of crying. First, he’s silent and then he follows. 
> 
> We’re in the middle of nowhere, the raindrops hitting the roof furiously in the dark, and we’re laughing and crying at the same time.

_Baz_

I wake up earlier than usual and use this time to admire my boyfriend. It still baffles me and frightens me to know exactly one year ago, I thought this was hopeless.

That Simon would never sleep with me like this, with his wings folded behind him, his arm draped around my middle. I’m aware there’s still so much about our relationship to be defined, especially since we’re going to be in Uni and we’ll be busier than ever, again. But for now, this is enough.

He’s going into medicine, and I can’t find a flaw into his logic for going down that path. It goes along with what he’s always been like, so I’m sure he’s going to do well, particularly since his grades at the Normal courses were (surprisingly) almost as good as mine. 

We’re both young, good-looking and we’re going into fields that are completely different but just as exigent. I’m scared this is going to tear us apart, but then again, who am I to decide that? As long as he’s staying, I’m his.

I can feel a buzz, just like a warmth that radiates from him, and maybe, just maybe, I dare to think it’s his magick. Not the dark, endless magic created by Davy, but the one that’s supposed to be his, simply because his parents (most likely), were magicians as well. I’ve felt it a few times, more frequently in this last half of the year but I’ve never mentioned it to him.  
It would be incredibly cruel to tell him I feel magic coming from him, and then for it to be gone, again. But I _am_ powerful, and I can feel it, so I’ve been keeping an eye on it, just in case one day it actually comes back full force. 

Teaching Snow the proper way to enunciate and cast spells is practically a fantasy of mine. Deep down, I never thought he was a hopeless magician, I just knew controlling that much power must have been hell. I run my hands through his curls, slowly and he stirs. I stare at every single mole that covers his face and then I count them, although I know the pattern by memory. I could probably point at them with my eyes covered. 

A while later, Daphne calls me down for breakfast, and I pretend I’m going let Snow know as well, but he’s actually in my shower. When we come down, Vera informs us looking unfazed that Daphne wants to have breakfast in the sunroom.

_When was the last time we ate in this room?_

It’s set up like a tea party and I can’t complain. There are a large French press and a teapot, as well as breakfast sandwiches and fruit and the like. 

The sunroom is beautiful and opulent. Every single wall is made of glass, with carefully potted plants and gold accents. The morning sun is coming through every angle, almost painting the room golden. It’s incredibly cold outside, but she must have used a weatherization spell, because it feels warm inside. 

I’m surprised to see that Daphne is the only one here. I wonder if she knows and she’s going to give us “the talk” or whatever. But then again, this is the first time ever that I’ve been home for Christmas and actually sat down with her to eat all three meals. So, there’s that. I can tell Simon is excited and decide that as long as he’s happy, I’m going along with this. 

I’m glad we’re dressed to go to London, because Daphne is also in a well-cut, blue dress, waiting for us.

_Simon_

I didn’t even know there were rooms like this in the mansion. Also, I don’t know what’s the deal with Daphne, but she’s chatty and I just go with it.

We spend the whole breakfast talking about Baz’s childhood and it surprises me to know that (besides the vampire thing, and death of his mother), his parents actually made an effort to keep photographs of him, take him on trips with his siblings. There’s also the factor that they’re rich, so that’s probably why they spent their summers down at the French Riviera. 

Even though they don’t really talk about personal things, they have their own language, which is mostly expressed through looks and facial expressions, or in Malcom and Baz’s case, the lack of thereof. 

She uses her mobile to show me a few photos of him, from before we met. There’s one or two from his 5th grade in a Normal school, wearing his uniform and looking as bored as ever. I pretend to tease him and laugh at the photo, but I’m also tempted to ask her to send it to me. But then that’d give me away.  
He’s blushing furiously and trying to hide behind his phone.

“I’m so happy you brought your, um, friend,” Daphne says, giving Baz a sincere look.

“Well, I wasn’t going to abandon him in London, alone.”

I roll my eyes and speak. “It would have been fine, probably less nice and social, but still.”

“No.”

I give him a dirty look. Even though we’re sitting in different couches, it’s kinda difficult to not look like a couple. Or maybe I’m self- conscious.

“So, how did you two boys started hanging out?”

Baz is quiet, so I suppose it’s my turn to talk.

“Um, we had this school project before everything happened, which is why I came last year, and well then I left Watford and moved to London to take therapy and um, my friend Penny ran into him and invited him to the flat when I was on house arrest and that was that”

It actually came out more naturally than it did when we rehearsed it.

This time, Baz speaks, sounding bored. “I figured since there was no more Mage, the families wouldn’t care if I actually befriended Snow, just like it should have been when the Crucible drew us together.”

Daphne takes a long sip of her coffee and purses her lips.

To lose even more credibility, I add, “We don’t see each other too often, like we do, but not really, though. Since we’re applying to University, it’s occasional.”

_Crowley, now I talk like Baz_

“What are you going into, Simon?”

I cough a little and Baz talks for me. “He’s going into Medicine.”

“Oh, well, that’s appropriate, Simon. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

She sounds sincere, so I give her a smile and nod. “Thank you.”

“So, Basilton, are you finally seeing someone in London?” I close my eyes. She’s trying to put us in the spot, but I don’t think she’s trying to be mean, just genuinely curious about the nature of our relationship.

He removes an invisible loose thread from his jeans and looks up. His whole body is tense, but he keeps his face neutral.

“No.”

She smiles, looking like she knows something, but changes the topic.

An hour later, we’re on our way to London, in the very same Jaguar we rode last year. His hand is on the steering wheel, the other one is on my leg. We’re talking about the news we’re hearing on the radio.

He interrupts me. “She knows, Snow.”

“Yeah. I think she wanted us to tell her today. I kind of wish we had.”

“I’ll wait until you’re ready”

“I am”, I say it because it’s true, not because I feel pressured to do it.

“Okay.” He doesn’t say anything else, but I can see the way the corner of his mouth twitches up, slowly.

“Snow, do you mind waiting for me at your flat or at the café for a bit after we get your birth certificate? I forgot something at Fiona’s.”

I’m thankful for this because I needed an excuse to buy his gift. I wish I had bought it before the trip, but I wasn’t sure about what I actually wanted to buy for him. Now I know.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just use the time to phone Penny.” I’m lying, and maybe he is as well but we decide to play dumb.

_Baz_

Once we’re in the General Registry Office, things are slow. First, they ask for his name, but they insist they can’t find it in the regular database. I can feel Snow getting disappointed by the minute, but then I use my I-am-rich-and-powerful persuasion techniques and it works. I don’t like using my position for this, but then again, I hated seeing him start to sulk.

I tell them this is urgent, and that I’d do anything in my power to get to the root of this inefficiency while leaning on my left hand. Casually showing off my Antique Rolex watch. It belonged to my grandfather and it’s worth must be in the millions. 

“Baz, it’s okay. I’ll figure another-“

But the lady at the front desk leads us to a small office with no windows and leaves us there sitting.

“Since he’s an orphan, it must exist. I just need to check on the older registry. I don’t think it’s in the computer system.” I look at her and nod. 

“Okay.” 

We stay there for what feels like forever and we’re both nervous. He’s holding onto my hand for dear life and I let him. 

“Snow. Whatever this paper says about you, means nothing. It changes nothing.”

He’s looking at me and nods, but I can see his leg moving around nervously.

The woman comes back with an old folder, and on the cover, scribbled in black marker reads: _Confidential_

“This is what I could find, and it’s the only copy. From the birthdate, I think it’s you. I just put it in the system, so you can get more copies later, if you were to need them. You can request them online.”

“Okay.” 

We leave the office and I had her a few 50-pound notes, mainly because she probably took this illegally and because I feel bad for being an asshole to her. We don’t open the folder until we’re safely inside the car, facing each other.

It’s there, yellowish and slightly crumpled, and it changes everything.

> “Name and Surname:  
>  Simon Snow Salisbury  
>  Sex:  
>  Male  
>  Date of Birth:  
>  June 21st, 1997  
>  Place of Birth:  
>  Copeland, England, United Kingdom”  
> 

So, Snow was literally born on the opposite extreme of the country from me. We also missed his birthday this year and I’m sure I spent the day with him. We’re also the same age, but he’s four months older than I am. But most importantly, he has a mum and dad.

His dad IS actually the Mage, which is why when he died the magickal government mysteriously passed everything he owned to Simon. Under the name of the mother category, Lucy Salisbury is listed. I have no idea of who she is, but for sure we’ll look into it. I don’t realise he’s crying until he brusquely places an arm around my neck and starts sobbing on my shirt. I hold him.

“It’s okay, love. Now we know the truth.” I place a kiss on his wet cheek. It tastes like salty tears. 

“He was my father and I-I-“ 

“Stop. We knew this already. It’s now confirmed, but you’ve done such a fucking good work with your therapist, I don’t want your head to go back there.”

He’s still sobbing, and I just caress his back. At some point, I feel some tears escaping my own eyes. I cast a quick _nothing to see here_ just so the Normals can’t see through the car’s windows.

I grab his head between my hands, forcing him to look at me and the mere sight breaks my heart. 

“Simon. We’re going to look for whoever your mum was. I’ll make myself responsible to find her, okay? It’s on me.”

He nods, and his eyes are blotchy. “Thank you. I-I-lo“, He stops and for a second I think he might say he loves me, but then that couldn’t be true. That’s not right.

“I’m just awed to see it in paper. I exist.”

I snort and place another kiss on his cheek. “Of course, you do, Simon Snow. Now you can get to have your own ID’s and debit cards and all.”

We more or less share an account. When they gave him the Mage’s money, he didn’t want to accept it at first, but then Penny convinced him it was for his own education.

He still didn’t have an identity per se, so I ended up creating another bank account under my name, so he could manage it. I’ve never looked into the statements or anything, but he gave me his PIN number anyway. It’s my birthdate. Typical Snow.

He sniffles and then he’s back on his seat, making plans on how he’s going to finally be able to have his own contracts and get into bars. He even makes a being able to get married joke and I ignore it, except I do blush. I’m just relieved he’s feeling better.

Anyway, I can tell he’s still slightly upset when I drop him off in a Starbucks downtown so I can actually go to buy his anniversary gift. 

“I’ll meet you at six, okay?” I say as he climbs out of the car, in the middle of the pouring rain.

“Yeah.”

I wait until he’s inside to drive off. _My love._

_Simon_

Once Baz is gone, I’m grateful I’m in the centre of London, so it’s easier to move around. It’s only five so I have a good margin, and I already know what I want to buy. I check out a few of the bigger jewellery stores, but none seem to have specifically what I’m looking for until I almost give up but find a small shop which sells pieces made by the owners.

I know it’s the one when I see it. It’s a small, flat pendant. It’s circular shaped and it’s really thin. It must be about one centimetre wide, and It’s made out of white gold (because I still don’t know if he can wear silver) and it doesn’t have anything special. Just a thin, silver coloured chain. It’s slightly pricey, but then again, how many times in your life do you celebrate a year of dating brilliant Basilton Pitch?

“Is this a Christmas gift for your girl, son?” The owner asks when he leads me to the register.

I clear my throat, “Mmm, something like that.”

“Do you want to have it engraved? It’s free and I can do it right now.”

I’m so happy I’m in this store. “Yes, actually that’s what I hoped for.”

“What do I write? It can be one or two letters or a number”

“Just an S will be fine.”

I leave the store with a small flat black box in my hand and I just head to Starbucks. My hair is kinda wet, but I don’t care. I put the box inside my coat’s pocket, just in case.

He picks me up at 6 p.m. sharp and I climb into his car, bringing him one of his favourite candy drinks.

He takes a sip and then closes his eyes. “You’re an actual Angel.”

I smile and lean back into the seat.

It’s now getting darker by the minute and we’re in the middle of the country, driving towards Hampshire when it happens.

We’re talking animatedly over what movie we should watch when we get into bed and he’s laughing a lot, being careless for once when a -fucking- deer runs right in front of us and he slams the brakes.

The deer makes it out safe, but I slam my chin hard against the dashboard and I’m bleeding all over the place. Shit. Shit. _Shit_

He’s out of the car and in the rain before I open my eyes and move. I’m conscious but it hurt so bad I need a minute. Baz opens my door and is pulling me hard into him. 

“Fuck, Simon. Simon. You’re awake.”

I look at him, confused. “It wasn’t that bad. I just hit myself”, but then I catch my own reflex in one of the mirrors and see that I’m soaked in my own blood.

I take my coat and then my shirt off and press it under my chin. He’s frantic and I need to know if it’s my blood that’s making him like this.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t see it and I hurt you and now-“ He’s crying. I’ve never seen him looking so desperate.

“Shh. Baz. It’s okay. Do I need to leave? Um, there’s blood everywhere and”

“No, the smell isn’t that strong. I’ll take you somewhere, I can’t cast right now.”

He sits on the driver seat and now I’m crying as well. His hands are over his heart and he’s crying hard, but I think he’s just really scared.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I start laughing, right in the middle of crying. First, he’s silent and then he follows. We’re in the middle of nowhere, the raindrops hitting the roof furiously in the dark, and we’re laughing and crying at the same time.

“Fuck, you couldn’t do it with a Chimera, but the deer almost worked.”

He gives me a please-shut-up look. “Snow, it’s not funny. I was so careless, I’m sorry.”

We end up in a Normal 24-hr emergency room. The nurse asks to see my I.D., but I don’t even have one, and I think Baz ends up paying her off. I get twenty stitches in my chin and he holds my hand during the whole process. It hurts but I’m so used to broken limbs and the like, I just flinch on the first one. 

We get home after 10 p.m. and I’m grateful no one is on the living area. We shower (separately) and then we reunite on Baz’s room. He brought up some leftovers from his family’s dinner and half an apple pie. I sit on his bed and we eat. I finish the apple pie even though I have to chew slowly because it hurts every time I move my mouth.

He places a kiss on my head once we’re settled to watch one of his weird, favourite films. My head is carefully placed on his chest, and his cold skin actually helps soothe the pain.

He speaks softly. “I’m sorry, Simon. I panicked. I was sure you had died.”

I don’t say anything, but I kiss his hand. I swear I saw the highlights of my life flashing by as we skidded off the road. He was in most of them. He’s definitely being alive for. He’s favourite person on this planet.

I try to watch the film, but I’m so exhausted I’m sure it takes me less than five minutes to fall asleep on his chest.

_Baz_

We fell asleep watching a movie. The Grand Budapest Hotel, my favourite Wes Anderson film.

I'm woken up by his sudden movement. He moves the laptop from where it’s sitting, squeezed between our legs, to the floor on the side of the bed, and suddenly he's reaching for my face. He takes it between his hands and kisses me softly. He's so warm and his lips are moving so slowly against mine I'm not sure I'm not dreaming. 

He breaks the kiss but keeps holding my face. I place my hands over his. We remain in that position, and for the longest of times, he is staring into my eyes. Snow could probably snap my neck right now, and I'd let him.

I'm confused, but it's the middle of the night, and my room is only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the floor to ceiling windows, so I don't dare make a sound. For a second, I contemplate the possibility that he’s going to break up with me, but his eyes are filled with doubt and sleep, and something I can’t quite place.

Finally, he breaks the fragile silence.

“Baz” he says it so softly, I don’t think someone with regular hearing would have heard him.

“Mmm,” 

“You're my best friend.”

I don’t react except for my sudden, sharp intake of breath. His confession comes out of the blue, and it’s incredibly sweet. 

Could it be? _Could Simon Snow be in love_ with me? My insides melt upon hearing him, and I wish I could say what’s going through my head, but it’s coming so fast, all I do is place my hands on his soft curls and kiss him. Softly, exploring, like we have all the time in the world.

And we do.

I love you. The words hang heavy on the back of my throat, but I don’t dare say them. I don’t know if we’re at that stage yet, even after a year together, but I have felt it since the first time we kissed. Probably even before then.

Bunce says anyone could see it even with the lights out. We’re in love. True love. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself and make Simon uncomfortable, dropping the L bomb like this in the middle of the night. But when I pull apart, his lips are swollen and pink and he’s flushed and fuck, this is better than any of the fantasies that kept me company during my teenage years. His eyes look glossy and it’s out before I can censor myself.

“I love you”, I say it as I’m still making eye contact. 

Crowley, this is perfect. I see his surprised expression and how he smiles slowly as tears start welling in up his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t feel quite there, Simon. You don’t have to say it back, right now or ever.”

But he’s kissing me, now urgently until he pushes me back into the bed, while he hovers over me. I vaguely wonder if his stitches aren’t causing him pain when he’s moving like this. He’s grabbing my face again, and as he blinks, his long eyelashes glisten with his tears. One of them falls on my cheek and I don't wipe it. I don't care.

“You’re my favourite part of my life.” He pauses, and I’m contempt with this revelation, but then he continues. “I love you, Baz.”

Fuck. Never in my wildest dreams, I thought I would ever hear him saying something like this, so I kiss him once more, for good measure. “I love you. I love you. _I love you._ ” That's all I can say between kisses.  
It makes the words feel less foreign on my tongue and then I realise this is the first time I've said them out loud, ever.

One snogging session, and maybe some under-the-belt fondling later, Snow's laying on my chest and I'm combing his curls with my fingers. He's awake but is staring at the window dreamily.

“You're the only person who has ever heard me say ‘I love you.”

He looks up and I can tell I've startled him. He grabs my free hand and starts tracing patterns on my palm. “You've never said it to anyone?”

“No,”

Curiosity gets the best of me, even though I don't think I want to know. “Have you?” 

He scoots a bit up and places a kiss on my neck, where two thin, white scars lie, right where I was bitten. I pretend not to notice.

“Yeah. But it's the first time that I've meant them.” I sigh. I suppose Wellbelove got there first.

“At least I did one thing right. I actually got you to love me.” I reply. 

“Yeah. It was easier than you think. I think I’ve known since the Leaver’s ball.”

My eyes close at the fond memory of that evening. I snort. “I’ve known since Fifth year, Snow.”

He kisses my hand, and once more, he graces me with the magic words. “I love you.”

My chest feels like it’s about to burst from the mix of emotions that’s been this day. Eventually, we fall asleep, just like that. No pressure, no alarm. Just us, and the revelation that our love is real, and it’s bigger than the two of us combined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello <3  
> Here it is!!!  
> I kept saying I was going to update till next week, but I couldn't stop getting ideas for this chapter, so I ended up writing it.
> 
> The part where they say I love you was actually the first part I wrote for this fic. That was my starting point and It's slightly inspired by Taylor Swift's song "You're in love."
> 
> I hope you like it. Let me know if there's anything you'd like me to write about in this fic, and if there are any mistakes. THANK YOU!  
> Your kudos and comments make my day <3  
> -MP


	4. The rest of the world was black and white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Softly, he speaks, “Will you teach me how to use it, like, for real?”
> 
> I kiss his shoulder and watch as goosebumps form on his skin. I practically beam and I allow myself to enjoy it because he can’t see me.
> 
> “Yeah. Absolutely.”
> 
>  
> 
> _What a strange, perfect way to start our day._

_Baz_  
I wake up freezing to the sound of Mordelia’s voice. She’s standing at the side of the bed, there’s a sad look in her pretty eyes.

 

“Baz, Baz, wake up.”

I sit up. Simon’s not here and I thank Merlin she didn’t find us all tangled around each other.

“What? Merlin, you didn’t even knock.”

Her voice is urgent, and she slams her small hands on the bed. “Your Chosen One, something is wrong with him.” My mind instantly fills with worry. _What? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t. Please have a headache or something else._

“I wanted to show him my tooth had fallen out and he was in the bathroom, but he wouldn’t…”

I’m already running barefoot down the hall, wand in hand. I turn around before I go into the white room and my heart is pounding fast on my chest. I try to sound unfazed, but I’m screaming internally.

“Go to your room. Don’t tell your mum anything about this unless I do. I’ll take care.” Mordelia nods and leaves, taking small steps towards her room.

I lock the door behind me and practically sprint toward the bathroom. He’s here, sitting in the floor, slouching halfway on the edge of the empty bathtub. The whole room smells like magic. Not like his old, intoxicating magic, but more like a smoky, warm, hot oven scent.

There’s some sort of black dust everywhere, including his bare back. I notice he’s naked except for his underwear. Simon’s eyes are closed, and he doesn’t flinch as I drop down to my knees next to him.

 _Oh. Oh._ Shit. It’s only when I try to pull him towards me that I realise his wings and tail are gone. And I haven’t spelt them invisible for him yet.

“Simon, love. Wake up” I say it softly as I take both of his arms. He doesn’t react but i notice the rise and fall of his chest. Good, he’s alive. The bandages covering his stitches are soaked in blood and now I’m starting to panic.

“Simon, please”, he makes a sound and opens his eyes slowly. They’re red and glassy. “It- it hurts,” he mumbles and I start breathing again. He holds onto me, placing his head on my shoulder. He’s soaking my shirt with his blood.

“Do you want me to call Daphne?” There’s a knot in my throat. I can’t bear to see him like this.

“No, just. It hurts everywhere. Baz, help me.”

Using one hand, I turn on the faucet on the bathtub and adjust the temperature so it’s warm. It’s the only thing that I can think about doing right now.

I take a towel from one of the racks and wet it slightly. Carefully, I run it over his back. There’s no blood and there isn’t an open wound either. Only three small scars from where his wings and tail used to originate. Slowly, I lift him and try to get him into the bathtub but he’s holding on to me hard. I’m still terrified, the vision of him, looking lifeless still replaying in my mind. Everything I'm doing feels foreign to me, as if I was watching someone else holding Simon with a panicked, helpless expression on his face.

“Love, get in the warm water. I’ll help you.”

He unwraps himself from me slowly and unceremoniously drops his underwear to the floor. I look away. Now’s not the time to perv on him. I’ve only seen him naked a few times in our year together, but right now it seems wrong to stare.

He gets into the warm, soapy water and cautiously, from the side of the tub where I'm kneeling, I remove the bandages from his chin. A couple of stitches have popped but it looks okay otherwise. I clean his wound and then grab my wand.

I look into his eyes and he nods, giving me permission. I cast my best healing spell and watch as his skin closes itself back up, the suture thread falling into my hand. He touches it and smiles weakly.

“Better?” I study his expression and he seems calmer.

“Mhmm.” I sit on the floor, next to the tub, waiting for him to kick me out. “Baz?”

“Yes?”

“Get in with me.”

Merlin and Morgana. We’ve done some stuff, but we’ve never shared a bath. I always thought it would happen after we…did it. But am I going to refuse? _No._

I strip down, trying to look nonchalant and get in behind him. Immediately, he leans on my chest and I do my best to ignore how good the skin-to-skin contact feels. I press a kiss to the top of his head.

“What happened?”

He sighs and places his hands on my thighs. My muscles spasm a little. “I woke up and my wings were sore. I didn’t want to wake you, so I came here, and then they started to hurt even more until I passed out, and you know the rest.”

I lean back and trace my hands down his back, massaging and inspecting the scars. I stop when I reach any of his moles.

“They’re gone, Simon.”

He doesn’t reply, but I can feel him shaking. He’s crying. I hold him tighter and wait for him to release what he's feeling. My stupidly brave boyfriend.  
We stay silent for a while, enjoying the temperature of the water and the feeling of being pressed against each other. Snow and I are very physical. We are almost always touching, even if it's in subtle ways.

“Do you feel different?” I dare to ask. I’m almost certain his magic is back for good, but I don’t want to get his hopes up.

He takes his time to think. “I feel a…buzz. Like when I used to be a mage.” I roll my eyes.

“You’re still a mage.” He shrugs. Merlin, he can be dense sometimes. 

“Try to cast something. The whole room smells like magic.”

He turns his head to look at me and I nod. His eyes are full of questions, but I hand him my wand anyway. What’s there to lose? I’m rooting for this to work. Tomorrow is the anniversary of when the massive hole in Hampshire was opened. Today is ours.

He takes the wand from me, and in a quiet but firm voice, he says: _Clean as a whistle_. I watch, marvelled as the fine, black dust disappears from the white floor tiles. He drops my wand on the floor, and it rolls away until it reaches the door. So much for a family heirloom. I kiss his hair multiple times. “You impossible nightmare, your magic is back.”

“Fuck.” That’s all he says for a while. I suppose it’s setting in. Penelope is going to flip.

He’s quiet for a long time but he places his hands over mine, right where they’re crossed over his stomach.

Softly, he speaks, “Will you teach me how to use it, like, for real?”

I kiss his shoulder and watch as goosebumps form on his skin. I practically beam and I allow myself to enjoy it because he can’t see me.

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

_What a strange, perfect way to start our day._

 

A while later, we’re in back in our pyjamas sitting in my bed. I’ve already gave him a massage, and I almost enjoyed it as much as he did. Having my hands all over his bare back, tracing his muscles, the place where two dimples lie right at the bottom of his spine. Hearing him practically moaning. An actual fantasy come true.

I go downstairs and ask Vera for breakfast. I tell her Simon is sick and she doesn’t comment on it, just raises an eyebrow. I take it upstairs and we eat in bed. It’s raining a lot and it’s the perfect day to spend it in bed with your boyfriend. It’s not how I imagined our anniversary going, but then again, I’m not complaining.

We’re done eating, still facing each other, listening to some of my music when he pulls a small black box from his sweatpants’ pocket. This surprises me because I didn’t think he would get me anything. For some stupid reason, my eyes start watering and I feel like kissing him until my lips are numb.

“Happy anniversary, Baz.” he extends his arm towards me, handing me the gift. I take it and kiss his knuckles.

Is this a…? Could it be? _No. Obviously not._

He looks excited and nervous, pulling his sleeves over his hands. His face looks completely unguarded as he waits for me to open it. I undo the bow, setting the silver ribbon aside and slowly open it.

 _Simon Snow Salisbury is going to kill me._ One day, he’s going to kill me with an emotional overload.

The love of my life wants me to wear his initial around my neck. The gesture is romantic and cliché, but I’m drunk on the idea that he wants me to show the world I’m with him. It’s small and discrete and I could probably wear it under my clothes, but I’m eager to display it everywhere. No one has ever gotten me a gift like this, something so thoughtful and personal. My chest feels like it's about to burst.

“Well?” He prompts.

“Simon. This is the best thing I’ve received. Ever.” I lean forward and place a wet, small kiss on his mouth. He’s blushing and grinning. I love him.

“S’not to mark you or anything. I just, um, thought it would remind you of me. When we’re apart. Like you don’t really have to wear it” He looks down to his legs, avoiding my gaze.

“Shut up. You’re going to catch me wearing it at my funeral. I love you.”

He smiles and kisses my cheek. I take the chain and unclasp it, then close it back once it’s around my neck. I love it. I realise he’s not even waiting for anything back. He’s just delighted I’m happy with what he got me. I get up and pull a larger box from my closet.

“Happy anniversary, Simon Snow.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes are wide open. He’s looking at me like I’m the Queen.

“You got me something?”

I grin. “Of course, I did, Snow. I wasn’t going to let our first anniversary be irrelevant.”

He shreds the red wrapping paper and he examines the box quietly, reading through the features. It’s a Polaroid camera and a bunch of packets of film. Snow’s doesn’t have any physical memories from his childhood for obvious reasons. It’s a fucking tragedy there aren’t any baby pictures of him, because I would be obsessed with them. I’d probably carry them around in my wallet. Frame and hang them everywhere.

He looks like he just won the lottery. “Baz, this is…thank you. I love it. I love you.”

He kisses me, hard, taking me by the back of my neck.

“Now you can stop taking crappy pictures with your phone and have some actual memories to keep.” He snorts.

“Love, can we like, test it?”

“Obviously.”

He turns it on and loads it with film. I wonder exactly what his first picture is going to be. He wraps his left arm around my neck and kisses my cheek. He snaps the picture then, and we have to wait for it to appear. We use this time to snog because we're classy like that.

It’s fucking perfect. There’s only the lower half of our faces in the shot, the rest is our necks (with my necklace visible). His lips are pressed against my cheek and what makes it even rarer, is that I’m smiling. Full set of straight, white teeth on display for the camera.

He claps his hands together and then examines the small photo, ”This is wicked. You are actually perfect”, I notice he’s only staring at me, holding it close to his face. His words make me feel like I’m about to combust.

I take a photo of the polaroid with my phone and shamelessly set it as my lock screen picture. Snow already wrote today’s date on the bottom of the picture, using a black marker.

I can already see their flat full of polaroids of whatever Simon thinks is important enough to capture. I hope it includes me.

We spend most of the morning in bed, somewhere between kissing and sleeping. Since when do I spend this much time being unproductive?

We call Bunce to let her know the good news. She’s over the moon. I am, too.

“Si, it’s going to be so much fun. You’ll get to learn from the best. My dad was right about your magic coming back.” 

“Yeah. It’s so weird. It doesn’t feel like it did before. It feels…manageable.”

That’s how it was supposed to be.

“You guys should go to the Wellbelove’s party tonight. Agatha went back for a few days.”

Simon is quiet, and he looks at me. He’s asking me a question with his eyes and I nod.

“We’ll see, Bunce. Depending if we’re feeling up to it tonight.”

“Let me know if you tell Agatha. I want every detail, Basilton.”

We end the call and start discussing the party. I know for a fact Dev and Niall are going, as well as some of our class members, like Keris and Trixie. I don’t know if Simon wants to go, though. We haven’t spoken much to Wellbelove since she left, and I don’t think she knows about us being together, which can only result in an absolute mess tonight. He insists on going. Okay.

It’s quite a drive so we start getting ready early to make it on time. Snow texted her and she said it was a casual affair, no suits needed. A shame. Any opportunity is a good one to see him in a suit. Instead, he is wearing jeans and one of my black jumpers. I love it when he wears my clothes. I’m dressed completely in black.

Once we get there, I’m surprised and slightly annoyed that the majority of our class is here. Crowley, this could end in flames. I’m certain most of them don’t know we’re dating and we didn’t arrive particularly holding hands or being touchy, so it isn’t obvious. I wish it was. 

Wellbelove greets us and she hugs me first. I pat her on the back and that’s about it. Next, she throws her arms around Simon, kissing his cheek with a loud smack and lingers longer in the hug that I’d have preferred. 

“Simon, you look so good.” He blushes but doesn’t reply. “Your hair is so long now, I love it!” She proceeds to ruffle his curls and I swear to Merlin I almost cut her hand off. He looks at me awkwardly, but I keep a neutral mask on my face.

How does one tell the girl who used to be into you and dated your boyfriend that you are in fact, an item now? _Merlin._

I walk away to greet Dev and Niall and they give me a curt nod. They act like I didn’t just walk in with my arch nemesis, wearing matching clothes. We chat for a bit about last season’s matches, but I can’t stop myself from glancing back at Simon and Wellbelove. They’re still talking, him looking slightly awkward and her animatedly placing a hand on his arm. 

“So, it’s true.” Dev is looking at me, a smirk on his face.

“What?” I try to go for nonchalant, but I see his eyes staring pointedly at my necklace.

“You and the Chosen One are getting it on.”

Niall has the decency to snort and look at Dev murderously. I blush as hard as I can. Unluckily for me, I fed just before coming here. 

“We aren’t- “Dev cuts me off. “S as in Simon Snow. Can you be any more obvious?” He makes a point in over pronunciating the S. 

“Yeah. Are you done?” I say dryly. 

Niall smiles and offers his hand to Dev. My cousin rolls his eyes and fishes around in his pants pockets until pulls out a hundred pounds, handing it to Niall. _Bastards._

“We knew since the Ball, the bet was about how long it was going to last.”

I snort and give them the finger. They start laughing and going on about their wasted adolescence plotting against Simon. I join them and remember how much I liked hanging out with them.

I don’t eat but join my friends for a couple of drinks, until only a group of us remains in the living area, the rest of them are scattered everywhere. There’s music blasting from the speakers. I don’t know who is picking the songs, but they’re terrible. Every single song that’s on the pop charts has played, including some classics like “Mr. Brightside” and “I will survive”. This kind of atmosphere makes me feel my age, which I suppose is a good thing because we didn’t get this at Watford, especially when I was pondering about when I was going to die. Or see Simon die.

Trixie and Keris come towards us, wrapped weirdly around each other and clearly intoxicated. Trixie taps on my shoulder and speaks in her high pitched voice. “Let’s play spin the bottle”

“No,” I reply fast.

“Come on, we’re about to start in the TV room. Even the Chosen One. We want to see who scores a kiss with him.” I cringe when they call him that, but this gets my attention. Dev and Niall are already smirking, the challenge clear in their eyes. 

I try to look bored but nod and follow them along with my friends. They’re in a large, carpeted room. There must be about 20 of us, including me. Simon sees me and pats down on the spot next to him, but I shake my head and sit directly in front of him. I want to be able to look at him. We’re all tipsy and they insist we have to take a shot before the game starts. This is a recipe for disaster. I’m already halfway to being pissed and Snow looks flushed and looser than normal.

The game starts and the usual questions are asked. Who was your impossible crush? Did you ever do it in Watford? What was the sexiest teacher? I roll my eyes. This is so typical and dumb, but I must admit I am having fun. So far, the bottle hasn’t landed on me or on Simon. 

They spin it one more time and it lands on him. One of the girls has to ask him a question and I’m already anticipating the torture that this is going to be. To my surprise, she asks him to rate from prettiest to ugliest: Bunce, Wellbelove and Keris. He does, in that exact order. He’s obviously blind, but then again, he can’t be because he likes me.

Everyone laughs and cheers. That was a save. 

Dev kisses Wellbelove on the lips. I can tell this is one for the books, by the way, his face looks after. He winks at me and I give him a thumbs up.

Next, it obviously lands on me. I choose truth and I know what’s coming. A girl whose name I can’t remember asks “Who was your Watford crush?”

I blush all the way to my ears but keep my face bored. I take a long drink from my red cup and firmly, I say “Simon Snow.”

Everyone cheers and girls are making high pitched noises while my boyfriend smiles and blows me a kiss when nobody is looking. I catch it and roll my eyes. _Merlin, why are we so soft?_ Next to me, Niall makes a gagging noise, I punch his arm.

We play for a little bit more, and I’m slightly drunker by the minute. Now a Troye Sivan song is coming from the speakers. It’s called Postcard, and it’s somewhere between romantic and melancholic. I love it.

The bottle lands on Wellbelove and Trixie dares her to kiss Simon. “Come on, for old times’ sake” 

Um. He looks at me, a terrified expression in his eyes. I’m starting to get pissed off, but then again, it’s on us for not letting everyone know. What if he actually remembers how he used to feel about her? _Fuck, No._

She kneels in front of him and grabs his face between her hands. I can’t look. She goes to kiss him on the lips, but he turns his face fast, to the side, so it lands on his cheek. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and start laughing. But I need some air anyway, so I escape the room and go out to the back garden, where no one is because it’s fucking freezing. Shit, I’m too drunk to drive. I’m leaning against the patio door, eyes closed, when I feel his warm hand wrap around mine. I still.

He sounds worried when he says, “Baz, I would never-“ I squeeze his hand “I know.”

“I needed some air.”

He surprises me by pressing both of his hands on my cheeks and kissing me. The kiss is slow and needy. It’s probably sloppy as well, because of our current state. He is running his hands over my hair now and I’m holding his hips against mine, every inch of our bodies touching. Indecent, but it’s our fucking anniversary. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flashing light coming from the window. I break apart and see Dev with his mobile up. Once again, I give him the finger. He’d never post it, he’s probably being annoying.

_Shit_

Then I notice everyone who was playing is behind him, watching us shocked, including Agatha Wellbelove. Snow looks at them and brave as ever, flashes them a grin and places a peck on my lips. Everyone starts cheering and I relax. I guess that’s sorted out then. “Happy Anniversary, Baz.”  
It would be an understatement to say I feel relieved. I literally feel the weight of the world fall of off my shoulders. We stay almost until the end of the party, trying to sober up so we can head back. Snow eats almost the entirety of the leftovers from a Styrofoam container while we fill his ex in. She takes it extremely well.

We get home after 7 am. Daphne is already up in the living room, and she looks like she’s trying not to laugh when she sees us come in, probably looking wrecked. I drop the car keys on the foyer table and turn around to look at her.

“In your 21 years, I’d never thought I’d witness this.” I couldn’t look more mortified if I tried. Simon takes my hand and I don’t drop it.

“The drive was long.” Is all I can offer to her. She snorts.

“Don’t let it become a habit, Basilton.” She turns around and I’m pretty sure I can hear her giggling from the other room.

We don’t bother changing, we just collapse on top of my still-made bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm back with another chapter :)  
> I liked the way this turned out, but it took me a while to write it!!
> 
> Let me know if there are any mistakes!!
> 
> I tried to give them a realistic night in a regular 20-years old life. Also, a happy anniversary.
> 
> AND HIS MAGIC IS BACK!!!!!


	5. Right into place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not like that, Simon. It’s not an apartment lease, you numpty. Give it time. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind. I’ll wait for you.”
> 
> He wipes my wet cheeks with his thumbs, softly.
> 
> “One day, I’m going to beat you to that proposal, yeah? You won’t even know what hit you.”
> 
> I try not to but fail and end up smiling.
> 
> “No rush, Snow. We’re still young. We’ll figure it out if you don’t want to do it, okay?”

_Simon_  
Most of Christmas Eve’s morning goes by in a blur. We’re both quiet because we’re exhausted (we slept in until noon, so like, for a total of four hours) and also because at least I know for sure I’m incredibly hungover. Baz probably is too, judging by his refusal to open the curtains. I don’t think I’ve ever had a headache this strong.

We spend the rest of the morning in our pyjamas after showering and this is somehow so …nice. Our quietness but refusal to be apart from each other make it special. I can’t actually believe it’s happening. I’d never thought I would get this, someone to hang out with after a party. To be dying with a pulsing headache and on the verge of throwing up and still have someone to hold hands with. Somehow it feels more important than when he celebrates my “victories”. Being with Baz like this, simply coexisting means just the same to me than it does when he shows up wearing an expensive suit and takes me to his club meetings.

It was crazy how back then, whenever I fought whatever I had to and killed it, everyone at Watford cheered for me and would pat my back, celebrating with their friends that I had saved the day, but on those same nights, I would lie completely alone in the infirmary. No one except Penny would stay to deal with my wounds and broken bones, much less my resentment or whatever feelings those excursions would leave me with. Agatha always said she couldn’t bear to see me like that, so she always left. Baz stays, though. When I’m at my best and when I’m like this, being completely useless and cranky.  
We don’t even kiss all morning, he just takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine as we eat greasy bacon and pancakes on his bedroom floor. (It makes this a lot more difficult, but it’s nice) For a moment I watch him eating (he never covers his mouth in front of me anymore), with his back leaning on his bed, his hair still wet from the shower, dark circles looking more dramatic than usual and I pray to whoever is up there than this lasts for as long as It can be or at least that it ends well. That if all goes to shit, I get to keep him as a friend.

It’s possible that he might someday be done with me and realise he can do better. Yeah, nope. I don’t really want to dwell on those thoughts right now, but I do want to enjoy that today he’s with me and he brought me here because he _loves_ me. Or at least he’s said that. For this, I lean forward and place a kiss on his high cheekbone. He flushes.

I don’t think anybody has ever loved me before. Penny probably has, but not this way, more like a brotherly affection. Sometimes when Baz plays his violin for me (which is rarely), or when he takes the time to massage my shoulders if I’m looking like I’m about to burst, or when I catch him with his iPhone out, taking photos of me doing whatever nonsense he thinks it’s cute enough to save, I can feel that he loves me. I can only hope he knows I feel the same way because I try, but I’m pretty shit at romantic gestures. I’m good with physical contact and knowing what he likes and how to touch him, but he’s much better at subtle gestures. Refilling my mug with tea in the mornings, bringing home a pastry randomly, playing my favourite songs when we drive together. The thought of this still makes my stomach feel funny.

I get to have Baz unconditionally and obviously, he has me, as well.

_Baz_

We’re in the TV room because Daphne insisted we joined her for a film while dinner is finished and frankly, after our stunt yesterday, I didn’t feel like negating her anything. I also don’t even know if she noticed me and Simon holding hands right in front of her, but if she did, she hasn’t said a word about it.

Of fucking course, we’re watching a soppy romantic comedy about a wedding. Daphne is a great woman but she is all over these kinds of movies all the time. I actually enjoy them. Slightly. Not that I have ever voiced this to anyone, ever. Simon is sitting on the floor to my right, his head on the space between me and Daphne’s legs.

I go to the kitchen because I need a break. It’s too much to see Simon reacting to wedding scenarios and also because I want a cappuccino. Vera is icing a chocolate cake in the kitchen table and I proceed to use the Nespresso machine. I’m waiting for it to brew, leaning against the counter when she speaks.

“The Snow boy is very kind.”

I clear my throat, trying to mask my surprise. “Yes. He’s a good…friend.”

 

“Mr Pitch, I hope this doesn’t offend you, but I saw you two kissing last year. And this week.”

I’m pretty sure I’m blushing all the way to my ears. It doesn’t bother me that she knows, it’s just unexpected.

“Yes.” I raise my eyes to meet hers. They’re bright and looking soft right now.

“When I saw you growing up, I always hoped you’d find someone who looked at you the way that boy does. You were so lonely. You deserve it. Mrs Grimm is happy about it, too”

“Does she know?”

She smiles slowly. “A mother always knows.”

She winks at me and takes the cake towards the dining table, completely frosted now.

I grab my coffee and a plate of mince pies for Simon back to the TV room. He squeezes my ankle discretely as a thank you after I place it next to him on the floor. We’re all quiet for a while, until a scene where the bride is breaking down because her wedding invitations got sent out with the wrong date on them. It’s quite a scene, honestly.

Simon snorts. “That’s insane. I’m never putting myself through that, ever.”

Ouch.

He says it so lightly, like two days ago I wasn’t thinking about marrying him someday. Like I’m not trying to integrate him into my family for a reason. Daphne looks at him and smiles.

“When you know, you know, Simon. I never saw myself married either, and here I am.”

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever will, though.”

She pats his shoulder and they resume watching the movie like his comment didn’t just pull the rug out from under me. I know I’m being immature, but these past few days I really thought Snow was thinking about us in a more permanent type of way, not as a temporal romance, not just like a distraction. I’m starting to feel like I might cry, so I excuse myself and go straight towards my room’s balcony, leaving its door open. It’s raining but I don’t care, and I can’t really get wet here anyway because I’m halfway inside the room.

I lean against the window frame and let myself cry. Not sobbing crying but a few tears escape me. It all comes down to permanence for me. I’ve been robbed from the person I loved the most in the world, my mother, once. I don’t want the second person I’ve loved like this to leave me, either.

Marriage doesn’t feel like a requirement for a successful relationship, but at the same time, I see it as a way of confirmation. That legally, we agreed to be in this together, to share money, property, a last name. That creating a magical bond between us will remind us of the love we’ve shared and will continue to share eternally, that in the event of any unplanned situation, we’re in this together.

_Unbreakable, eternal, forevermore._

Those words float around in my head all the time when I think about my favourite moments with him. Him stealing sleepy kisses every morning, his bronze curls between my fingers, watching him sleep, hearing him whisper in the dark.

Certainly, I don’t think I’ll ever feel this way about anyone else, and I thought he felt the same way. We’ve accepted each other’s flaws and learned to love them, and we’ve learned to read each other so well, verbal communication isn’t always necessary. He can tell just by my posture when I’m upset. Maybe he does love me, but sometimes love it isn’t enough. What’s the use again of loving someone like this if they don’t see you as a constant in their lives?

Life may have other plans but I-

Snow comes through the door, quietly and sits in front of me, taking my hands in his. I don’t look up. I don’t feel like talking.

“Why did you leave?” He says in a hesitant tone.

“I was bored.”

“You’re crying. Baz, what? What happened?”

I don’t reply. I examine his fingers quietly and he tucks my hair behind my ear. He stands and walks behind me and instinctively, I scoot forward. He sits between my back and the wall and wraps his arms around my middle, placing his chin on the top of my head. I let him. I’m a disgrace to my own dignity.

“Better?”

“Yes.” I’m upset but his embrace is still comforting to me. I lean back and close my eyes.

“Is this about the wedding movie? Like what Daphne and I said?”

“No,” I say firmly, and then I decide I might as well say it, “Yes.”

He is quiet for a long time, burying his nose on my hair. “We don’t need a signed paper to know what we are, Baz.”

“I know that. It’s just I thought we wanted the same.”

“We do, though. I told you. I love you.”

I speak softer this time. “Look, Simon. I’m not saying it has to happen in a year, it’s just I thought it would actually happen eventually”

“S’not important. It doesn’t change anything for me.”

“Yeah. But what if you decide one day, in the middle of the night that you’re done with me?” _Pathetic. Atrocious._ I’m losing every last ounce of my dignity, but I feel like this conversation is necessary anyway.

“Impossible. I could divorce you either way. But I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it.

“How can you be so sure? I’m sorry I’m pushing this. I was raised to regard marriage as essential and as idiotic as it sounds, I do believe it’s the start of a family.”

He snorts. “I never saw you for a traditional kind of bloke. You’re my family already.”

I don’t reply. For fuck's sake, my last name is hyphenated. Of course, I am. Since I could sit on an adult chair I’ve heard every member of the Families go on about the importance of being a married man. Even my mother made one of the best proposals ever registered.

Although my marriage won’t obviously be traditional because of the queer part, it’s still meaningful.

“Look. Love, if it means that much to you, I’ll do it. I’ll show up and sign the paper.”

“Not like that, Simon. It’s not an apartment lease, you numpty. Give it time. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind. I’ll wait for you.”

He wipes my wet cheeks with his thumbs, softly.

“One day, I’m going to beat you to that proposal, yeah? You won’t even know what hit you.”

I try not to but fail and end up smiling.

“No rush, Snow. We’re still young. We’ll figure it out if you don’t want to do it, okay?”

He taps his fingers again my stomach. “And miss my opportunity to become a Pitch?”

We laugh, but I feel a million times lighter now. We stare dreamily into the window, seeing the thick raindrops falling fast onto the lawn.

We’ll figure it out, we always do. We’re solid and healthy. It doesn’t feel anymore like I’m waiting until something awful happens and we break up. It feels like we’re settled. I still feel a lot of anxiety towards the new changes in our lives. I feel crazy knowing all the new people Simon is going to meet at Uni, how he’s going to react to them and probably get attached to them, and only two things can happen from there. We can either make space for them in our lives, or he can push me out of the picture to make room for them. (I hope he doesn’t).

I am praying to all the Gods above and to life, destiny, and my Mother, that this time, love is enough.

Christmas dinner is uneventful, except for the fact Simon Snow is looking perfect. He’s wearing the black suit I bought him, which is snug in the right places, making him look slimmer and taller. His skin looks beautiful and smooth, dotted with all his moles, which by now I’ve committed to memory. His hair is parted to the side and combed. I prefer it wild.

The bastard won the genetic lottery. He obviously got the blue eyes and bronze hair, but apart from that, he was blessed with a perfect bone structure. His nose is straight and not too big, and his cheekbones aren’t as high as mine, but they’re still carefully placed in his face. He even was lucky enough to get straight teeth, only a couple at the bottom are crooked, but it isn’t very noticeable unless he’s laughing manically.

Merlin and Morgana, I am screwed. I can’t keep my eyes off him, and now that I know what it’s like to have him alone, just for me, I can’t stop wondering what it’d be like to do more. To explore and get lost in his body. I will wait as long as he wants to, but after all, I’m just a man. Or a vampire. I try my best to focus on what Father is saying, just to still myself.

“Basilton, your mother and I are planning on taking the kids to their grandmother’s”

I cough. “Right now?”

“Yes. We thought it was a good idea for them to join their cousins.”

 _Where is he going with this?_ Simon is quiet, just keeps shoving dessert into his mouth. This time, Daphne speaks, making eye contact with Father.

“It may be better if you boys stay here. I don’t think it’ll be appealing to you to wait for Father Christmas all night, surrounded by ten kids.”

Mordelia interrupts. She’s pouting. “Does Father Christmas know we’re going to granny’s?”

“Of course he knows, Delia. We informed him.” Father says. She nods.

Are my fucking parents acting as wingmen? We’ve never, never done this on Christmas Eve. We usually go up to our rooms and stay there until morning. Interesting. Whatever they think will happen once they leave, is probably not going to happen. We’re not quite there yet on the sex subject.

Simon yawns, and I don’t know if he’s pretending, because of the way his eyes sparkle mischievously as they meet mine across the table.

“I’m tired. I could actually use an early night.” It’s a challenge.

“Well, judging by how late you both went to bed last night, I would expect it,” Daphne says, nonchalantly while sipping on her wine.

I choke a little but school my face back to boredom. “It’s just a perfect occasion to rest. Mother, Father, I think you’d be better off without us.”

“That’s settled then. We’ll be back at noon for Christmas lunch at the Club”

Before they leave, while they’re packing up the kids into the car, Snow makes a show of yawning and looking exhausted. I almost believe it, if it wasn’t for the way he winks at me when he hugs Daphne goodbye. I’m starting to get nervous now. I don’t know what he has in mind, but he looks like he’s made of trouble, for sure.

I go hunting while he’s doing God knows what in my room. When I get back, I’m surprised. He’s sitting on the couch, only illuminated by the fireplace. His music is playing softly through the speakers and there’s a bottle of wine on the table next to him, and two glasses, (not the correct kind) but they’ll do. His tie is undone, as well as the top button of his shirt. I sit opposite of him on the couch while he pours each one of us a drink.

“To unexpected endings.”

We clink our glasses and I think I might be dreaming. “Are we alone, Basil?”

My mouth is dry. I shrug. “Yes,”

“Dance with me.”

“You can’t dance, Snow.” He takes a long drink and stands, offering me his hand. I take it.

We are dancing slowly, pressed against each other to Ed Sheeran’s song “Hearts don’t break around here.” It’s cheesy, but I feel like the words fit us. He smells glorious. This moment is glorious in itself, even with his feet stepping on mine occasionally.

_Love the way that you conquer your fear…and I’m not scared of passing over, or the thought of growing old…_

He leans back, facing me directly. His blue eyes look sincere when he says, “I love you”.

I’m combusting. I don’t know what changed, but things feel a lot less unstable right now. I almost believe he loves me. He kisses me, slowly. It takes him an incredibly long time to actually do it. First, he presses his lips to mine, our noses almost bumping together and then, he actually starts moving. I haven’t kissed anyone else ever, but I imagine there’s no one better at this than Simon.

I break apart and time slows when he leans forward, and right into my ear, he whispers: _“I’m ready”._ Those words are like magic, and my whole body stops and suddenly, it feels electrified. He runs his hands down my body, testing. My hands are shaking from his unexpected declaration. So, it _is_ happening.

“Are you sure? There’s no rush, Simon. We don’t have to do it for things to be official and-“

He smiles and giggles. “Baz. Stop. You’re overthinking this, I want you.”

For being so shit with words normally, he’s doing his most right now.

I get the magnificent experience of undressing Simon Snow, leisurely, removing every piece of his suit while he does the same for me, between expert kisses and giggles. “I love you, Simon.”

It’s a mess and I’m trembling the whole time. We’re both sweating slightly, all of my finesse and composure gone. He’s always so confident when we’re like this, while I’m a lot shyer. By the time we reach the bed, we’re both naked.

One year after I started dating my lifelong crush and sworn enemy, I lose my virginity to him in my own childhood bedroom. Right in the very same bed where I used to wank thinking about him, for what seemed an impossible situation then.

It’s not how I imagined it at all. There are a lot more laughter and pop ballads involved than I thought it would. _Aleister Crowley,_ If fifteen year old me knew he would get it on to John Mayer, he would have been furious. The one thing I’ll never be able to forget is his eyes, closing in pleasure, but mostly boring into mine, completely fixed on mine, no more walls between us. We just created our own Universe, which we’ll be able to explore from now on.

His hands are everywhere, and it amazes me how delicate he is being right now. “Is this good?”, “Do you want me to stop, love?”. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and he came prepared, but right now I’m glad he is. Things don’t run as smoothly (bumping foreheads, clashing teeth, gasping sounds make their appearance) as one would think they would but that’s alright, it makes the experience feel a lot more real and raw. Now for real, we’ve shared something we’ve never shared with anybody else. It’s fantastic.

Once we finish, it’s after three a.m. we’re lying there, exhausted but sated. I don’t know why, but I’m starting to feel sentimental. Fuck.

_Simon_

I don’t know what came over me, but I’m glad it happened. I kept putting this off because I didn’t think I knew if I wanted to do it.

Turns out, I did. I kept thinking about it, but then I saw Baz looking like that today and I decided I was ready. We’ve messed around before but we’ve never gotten this far.

It was amazing. Even better than it ever was with Agatha. I think a lot of that had to do with how honest we are with each other. We actually were both in it and we didn’t think of it as something to tick off a list. 

We’re still awake, holding onto each other. Baz used “clean as a whistle” because we were too tired to actually shower. Besides, I think it would just ruin the mood. He’s been quiet but I know he’s still awake because of the way his chest is moving against me. He’s also playing with my hair.

“Never thought it would happen here.” He says, a little too loudly. The music stopped a while ago.

I look up. He’s not looking down at me. “You are too quiet. What is going on through that head?”

“What? Did you want me to go on a rant, Snow? About how I finally got to-“

I kiss him and he shuts up. I kind of know what he’s about to ask, and even though I think he knows the answer, Baz likes to overthink things like this. So, I let him.

“Have you ever done this before?”

I breathe in. “Yeah.”

“Was it like this?”

“Yeah, no. Have you?”

I can almost feel him rolling his eyes. “Obviously not, Simon. I hadn’t even kissed anyone before you.”

“Was it good?” I ask, because I do want to know.

“Yeah. Obviously. It was with you.” I like it when he’s like this. Soft and unguarded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t…you know...wait.”

He waits for a bit. Even though he’s so fucking smart, sometimes it takes him a while to say what he’s feeling.

“I mean, how could you? I myself wouldn’t have known we’d be like this a year ago.” He continues, his voice almost inaudible “And besides, you’re here now. You came to me, eventually.”

Now I’m starting to fall asleep, all of my worries fading. His skin feels cool against mine. He lowers himself until we’re at the same level. His eyes look impossibly gray and his hair, messy around him make him look so nice. He’s so fit. How did I manage to live so many years around him without noticing?

 

“You came to me. We both did. Whatever.” He laughs. “I didn’t.” He leans into me and kisses that mole on my cheek he likes so much. I smile.

“Good night, Simon Snow.”

I don’t reply, we’re both wrecked, but I don’t think I could talk anymore if I tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!  
> It took me forever to update, but I was wrapping up my semester. (med school is crazy haha)  
> I'm not going to lie, I kinda wanted to give up on this story because my muse was kinda dead, but once I finished my finals, I finally started getting some ideas about where I wanted to go with this story.
> 
> I hope you like this!! I'm sorry if it's shitty, but I did like the way the ending turned out. Also ONLY two chapters before it's done!!! These will come fast, I promise.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos <3 I really appreciate them  
> Lots of love  
> M.P.


	6. My hands are shaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow. I-I’ve never seen this, Baz. I was so small.” Tears are filling his eyes, but I know he’s holding them back.
> 
> “It’s so adorable.”
> 
> “Do you want it?” 
> 
> “No, um. It’s yours.” _I do._ “This is your only photo.”
> 
> He places it in my lap. “Take it. I have yours.” I smooth his curls and press my lips his forehead. “I love you.” He flushes at this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Hello!!!!! <3  
> This one is kinda short but I needed to write it to tie down some loose ends!! The last one is the ending and it's probably going to include an epilogue as well. I think It will be the longest one yet, so it'll take somewhere around three or four days.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!! And for commenting and leaving some kudos!!
> 
> Lots of love as usual,   
> \- MP <3

Surprisingly, I wake up before Simon does. It happens rarely, but I use the time to appreciate him when it does. The room is bathed in light and he’s facing me, his arm thrown around my middle and our legs tangled. I look down and last night’s events come to mind, and I can’t help but feel…shy. For the first time in my life, I was completely unguarded. Even though I am dating him, I like to keep some things for myself. It’s hard to open up completely when you’ve been trying to build a wall for years. So, I don’t let myself be soft all the time around him or tell him every single one of my waking thoughts, but last night I held nothing back.

It was unprecedented, but it was perfect. Still, I don’t really feel like facing him right now. I am very content, overjoyed even, if not a bit burned out. Intense, soft sessions with him always leave me feeling raw and vulnerable, so I get myself out of his embrace and quietly head towards the bathroom.

I take a long, warm shower, taking the time to do my full exfoliating routine and condition my hair properly. I allow myself to enjoy the silence of the room, the soft morning light coming through the bathroom skylight. Then I proceed to brush my teeth. I’m staring at myself in the mirror when I see the bathroom door open, and he slips in, curls mussed and stands behind me, still naked from the night before. I look at him in the mirror and he gives me a lazy smile.

“Good morning, darling.” He says and then, he proceeds to place a kiss between my bare shoulder blades. _Aleister Crowley._ A shiver runs through my whole body and I flush. He called me a pet name. Which he rarely ever does. I think I could count those times using my fingers. It’s not like I could erase them from my memory.

Pet names come to my brain all the time when I’m with him, or texting him, or talking about him. It’s just I seldom let them slip because he doesn’t seem too keen on them, even though frankly, I find pet names endearing. 

I smile at him and our eyes meet in the mirror. 

 

The club is set up spectacularly, everything covered in crystal decorations, gold and silver accents, and beautiful flowers everywhere. Before we head to the table, Simon pulls me to the side.

“Do I look posh enough?” Snow says quietly.

I snort. Like I would kick him out if he came in here wearing his old Watford uniform. I run a hand through his almost-tamed curls, which are parted to the side for the occasion. He gives me a shy smile and turns pink as I run my fingers through his hair.

“You’ll do.” I kiss his cheek. Right when I do it, I notice Father is walking towards us. His face looks bored, but I know he is just excellent at pretending to not see things. But he saw us. There’s no going back now. I’m not sure which one of the three of us is more mortified because Snow looks like he’s about to vomit. I go for nonchalance.   
“Basilton.” We shake hands and he shakes Simon’s as well. “I was hoping I’d get to have a chat with your…um, friend.”

“Sure.” Snow sounds like he’s choking.

I make a move to go into one of the private rooms, but Father clears his throat.

“Alone. If that’s possible.”

Snow looks at me and nods, shoulders squared, chin up. His fighting stance on. I don’t know what the hell is going to happen, but I don’t think it’s anything good. I hide behind the wall until they close the door and I cast _louder for those in the back_ to help me hear through the oak doors. This spell is wonderful, because it increases the volume of a conversation, but only for the mage who cast it.

_Simon_

I’m nervous as shit but I’m trying really hard to seem uninterested. Somehow Baz’s dad doesn’t seem to be trying to intimidate me, so I’ll take it.

“Mr Snow, I’ve been looking into-“

“Please call me Simon, Mr Grimm” He nods.

“Simon, I’ve been looking into your mother. My son asked for help and I pulled a few strings.” He extracts a white envelope from his coat pocket and hands it to me. “Everything you need to know, it’s there.”

I’m getting teary right now. Yeah, I didn’t see this coming.

“O-Okay. Thank you so much, I really don’t know how to thank you.” He nods again, looking down.

“Don’t mention it. Now, now. Onto what concerns me.” 

I nod, trying to look like I don’t know what the fuck he is on about. Baz. This is it. He’s probably going to offer me a giant cheque to leave him. 

“Excuse me, sir, I don’t follow.”

“In the light of recent events, I’ve noticed my son has been…seeing you.”

I am sweating through this suit, but I clear my throat. Dumbly, I say, “Yeah.”

“Is this serious? Or are you just…experimenting?” he raises his eyebrow, just like Baz does.

“I’d like to think so, Mr Grimm.”

“You’d like to think you’re experimenting, or that it’s serious?” Shit. Once again, I’ve managed to mess up my words. I straighten myself.

“That we’re serious. It’s been going on for a year now.”

He tilts his head to the side, studying my face. Seeing him up close, I can see Baz’s resemblance to him. The sharp jaw, the height. The way they both gesticulate is eerily similar.

“I don’t want him to be distracted from his…life’s plans for anyone. I want Basilton to be focused. It’s not personal, Simon.”

I stare him down and to my surprise, he recedes a little.

“With all due respect, sir. I don’t think I am distracting him from anything. He still got into the school he wanted. He still finished top of his class. And my _boyfriend_ is still the most brilliant magician I’ve ever met.”

He looks straight into my eyes as he says: “I would avoid this situation if I could, but since we both know how my son is, I’ll say this once: You get _one_ chance. If you fuck this up, you’re done. And I’ll see myself to it.”

I nod once. “You won’t need to. We’re in love.”

He nods one last time, “So I’ve heard.” 

I think he’s about to leave, but then he turns around. “Do you know about his condition?”

I give him a small smile but refrain from rolling my eyes, “I’ve known for a while. Probably since Watford. And I’m okay with that. More than okay.”

He squeezes my shoulder and as he walks past me, towards the door, he murmurs, “Keep him happy.”

I need a couple of minutes to gather my shit, so I lean against the fancy wallpaper, closing my eyes. After a while, a cold hand slips into the hand I’m not holding the envelope in. In one hand, I’m holding my future, and in the other, I’m holding my past, right in that order.

“You did it. You stupidly brave idiot.” I open my eyes. Baz is smiling down at me, almost looking…proud?

“Did you hear everything?” 

“Of course, I did. I wouldn’t have missed it even if he had spelled me deaf” I snort, but he takes my face between both hands and kisses me. It feels amazing. 

_Baz_

I am so fucking happy right now I could cast a sonnet. Hearing Simon talk to Father about me like that was a fantastic experience. Especially because it was unexpected for everyone. It truly means he’s serious. 

He also looks incredibly attractive in his tailored suit as he tears to what must be half a turkey while trying to chat politely. I don’t really eat much, because most of my relatives are here. But I’m so giddy I’m not hungry. There’s no PDA here, but I’m planning on correcting that once we get home. We manage to escape just after five, with the excuse that Simon wants to check out the information Father gave him. My family still stays at the Club.

I drive the Jaguar and we’re both in a really good mood, singing along to every single tune that comes on the radio, even if they’re atrocious. His hand rests on my thigh through the whole trip. Still, there’s an air of anxiousness radiating from Snow. I understand why, but he refused to open the envelope until we were home.

Once we’re there, I stop by the kitchen. I fill a plate with yesterday’s leftovers and when I’m about to spell them hot, I get an idea.

“Simon. Heat them up for me.”

“Oh, um, okay. Sure.” He grabs my plate and heads for the microwave oven. I stop him.

“With a spell.”

“Um, Baz, I don’t think it would work properly and-“

I shove my wand into his hand. “Try. Do you remember the spell?”

“Some like it hot?” He shoots me a glare.

“Yes. Try with my wand. Pronounce each word just like I do.” I take the plate from him and place it on the granite counter.

“Okay.” He looks nervous, but he takes my wand properly anyway. It won’t work as well as his own would, but his is buried in a drawer somewhere in his flat.

“ _Some like it hot_ ” Nothing changes and I see his gaze drop to the floor, but I reach into the plate, using my finger to lightly touch the sauce. It’s warm. Not out-of-the-oven sizzling, but it will do.

“It worked. It’s warm. Look, Snow.” He shoves his finger into my mashed potatoes. Disgusting. But come to think of it, this isn’t the most unsanitary thing we’ve ever done before. So, I ignore it.

“Baz, this is wild. I am an actual mage.” He’s beaming and my heart races.

“Of fucking course you are. You may want to grab that leftover cake.” He kisses my cheek and takes the whole half of the cake with him, as well as two forks.

 

After I eat, we sit on my bed, ready to open the envelope. I light a candle and the fireplace using my own magic.

“Do you want me to be here or…?” I say softly. The soft glowing light washes his curls, making them look impossibly bronze. I reach forward, running my fingers through them.

“Yeah. Stay.”

He rips the top open and turns it upside down. A few papers spill out. He grabs the smallest one. It’s a baby photo of him. I recognise him immediately. Blonde, short curls, and rosy, round cheeks and large eyes on a too thin baby. He’s smiling at the camera. _My love._ They must’ve taken it when they dropped him because the words Simon Snow are scribbled on his extended arm. I decide to make a copy of it someday.

“Wow. I-I’ve never seen this, Baz. I was so small.” Tears are filling his eyes, but I know he’s holding them back.

“It’s so adorable.”

“Do you want it?” 

“No, um. It’s yours.” _I do._ “This is your only photo.”

He places it in my lap. “Take it. I have yours.” I smooth his curls and press my lips his forehead. “I love you.” He flushes at this.

The largest paper is someone’s birth certificate. It’s his mum’s. Lucy Salisbury belongs to THE Salisbury family, which are knowing for being powerful and loaded, like most of the families are. I make a mental note to find their family tree, Snow might have siblings, or cousins, aunts...I must have even met a few of them. Now that I think of it, one of the older ladies, is blonde and blue-eyed, and kind of resembles Simon, but I think that would be his grandmother, if so.

My father attached a note with a paperclip on top, with an address written on it. I recognize his writing. 

“I think we should go tomorrow, Simon. We could find the truth once and for all.”

He nods, “Yeah. I think so. I don’t think she’s alive, though”

We’re always brutally honest, and that’s why I say, “Me neither”

The last piece of paper is another photograph. Arguably, the rarest photo to ever exist of the Mage. It’s him, standing behind a blonde woman with his arms wrapped around her waist. She’s wearing a long, blue dress. It must be before a Watford Ball because they’re standing outside of Mummers House. 

I see it now. Simon does look like Davy, a lot. But his mum gave him my favourite features. The curls and his moles. She’s also stubby, round-faced and has large lips, but she is very pretty. Not ethereal like Agatha, but in a more non-conventional way. Simon is conventionally handsome, though. I think that part comes from his father.

My boyfriend is crying now, so I wrap myself around him and he climbs on my lap, making sure there’s no space left between us. “It’s all right, love.”

He sobs into my suit’s jacket. I let him. He wraps both of his arms around my neck. “We’ll find what he can tomorrow, I promise, Simon.”

“I know. It’s just-he knew- all this time, and he kept sending me away and-“

“He was a poor excuse of a father.”

He cries harder. Fuck. “But you have me. I’m your family. And Penelope.”

“Not really.” He mumbles into my neck.

“We are your family. And I care. And I love you.” I kiss the top of his head, and we stay like that for a while, letting the news settle in while we hold each other, enjoying the darkness filling the room as the sun sets.

After a while, he speaks. “Baz, do you think you could get us an, um, drink?”

I smile. “Alcoholic?”

“Yeah.” 

I raise my eyebrow and lean back to look at him. “Getting any ideas, Snow?”

“Mmm. I could think of something.” He gives me a mischievous smile. I leave him in the room and go down to the wine cellar. I don’t think Simon has been here before. I was here all the time during my visits on 6th year, when I’d drink just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, there is no beer or other types of drinks in this house, so Champagne will do. I go to my room and lock the door. He’s nowhere in sight, but I hear the bathtub running. I rarely use it, but Vera keeps it clean for no reason.

So I guess that’s what we’re doing, then. I’m not complaining.

_Simon_

Baz comes in, champagne and glasses in hand. 

“Is this enough to fulfil your request?” He says, trying not to laugh.

“I think so.” Doing romantic stuff like this with him sometimes throws me off, but right now, it’s fun.

He kicks the door closed and passes them to me. He spells the door to soundproof it and then he proceeds to dump some fancy bath bombs on the water of his huge bathtub. I think it’s more of a jacuzzi, to be honest. He connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker while I start getting undressed. 

My jacket and shoes are in his room already, so I unbutton my shirt and take it off. I continue until I am naked. He’s leaning against the sink, still completely dressed, watching me. He starts unbuttoning his own shirt, but I lean closer to him, placing my hands over his. I look into his eyes, asking the silent question.

“You may.” The pop song playing makes the moment feel less dense, but still.

I untuck his shirt and continue to undo the buttons until I finish. My hands are shaking slightly. It’s not that I’ve not done this before, it’s just, with him it’s important. And he’s also intimidating. He leans back and lets his arms go back until it falls to the floor. His pale skin is so beautiful. There are almost no moles covering his body or scars. 

He doesn’t grow much body hair, except low on his belly. I place my hand there, letting my fingers trace softly the flat, cold surface. Baz doesn’t have abs but he’s so lean, most of his muscles are defined anyway. I am not. I take his watch off carefully and place it on the counter. He unbuttons his own trousers, but I dig my fingers beneath his pants and pull them both down. I look up and his cheeks are a light shade of pink. He must have fed today. One thing I’ve learned about Baz in a year is that he blushes more frequently than you would think. Especially after he’s fed. I like being the one who makes him blush, though.

He leans his head down and runs his hand down my back, dangerously low. I kiss him.

 

A while later, we’re sipping on our glasses, leaning against each other and the world outside doesn’t seem to exist anymore. We’re wine drunk, talking nonsense about our time at Watford.

“You think the teachers knew? That all the fighting was us trying to blow off some steam?”

He chuckles. _Baz chuckles. A lot, especially when he’s drunk._

“Probably. Yeah. We were obsessed. I was.” 

“Well, I didn’t follow you for a year for nothing. Give me some credit.” He rolls his eyes

“Snow, it was insufferable. I couldn’t breathe. I think playing my violin helped because it was the only time you left me alone.” He rolls his eyes.

 

“I listened to you play.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“I did.”

“You did not”, He pours more champagne on his glass.

I grin. “Every damn day. I sat behind that door, listening. I think I took a few naps, too.”

He closes his eyes and when he opens them, they’re shining. “You’re going to pay for this.” He leans into me and I think he’s going to kiss me as he slips his arms around my sides.

He doesn’t. Instead, he starts tickling me. I can’t help but let out a high pitched scream and I thank Merlin for the soundproofing spells. He doesn’t stop but is laughing like a madman. I am too.

“Baz, no, stop-” I kick, trying to get him off me. Damn him and his super vampire strength.

“You are an absolute nightmare,” He says into my neck and I laugh and kick so hard I spill some of my champagne in the bathtub. He doesn’t react, but he stops tickling me. He kisses both of my cheeks.

“You are so damn ticklish, Snow.”

I grab his hand. “Now you know my biggest weakness.”

“And I plan to use it against you.” 

I guess there’s no real point in faking to sleep apart anymore, so we shamelessly lie down together, trying to watch another one of Baz’s favourite films, which is fair, because at home we mostly watch what I like. Which is mostly TV Shows. Baz hates watching them. He says you get too invested, so he’s a lot more into movies. Someone knocks at the door and I jump into the couch. 

It’s Daphne. She walks into the room, just to the side of the obviously unmade bed.

She smiles and tilts her head to the side. “You know, we’ve all known for a while.”

I try my best to not look mortified. Baz looks bored except for the way his hands are fiddling with his sweatshirt.

“Mother, don’t.”

“Basilton, we all like him. I wish you both said it from the beginning.”

I speak. “Um. Thank you, I just didn’t think you’d accept me, given my history and all”

“Nonsense. I’ve never seen him this...content. He could be dating a goblin and we’d be pleased.” Baz looks down to the floor.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs Grimm.”

“Please call me Daphne.”

I smile. “Okay.”

She turns to leave, but her head whips back around, “And boys?”

“Mother”

“Take that cake pan downstairs. Vera was looking for it.”

Baz snorts, very ungracefully. “Will do.” The door closes behind her.

“I guess it’s done, then.” He nods and cuddles against me once I return to the bed. 

“Yep. There’s not going back, Snow.”

I wrap my arm around him, ready to continue Fantastic Mr Fox’s adventures. He kisses his favourite mole on my cheek.

I text Penny a photo of us cuddling like this, and down in the caption I write:  
When your boyfriend's whole family know you're dating.

She writes back: "Is this a good thing?"

Baz takes my phone and sends "Absolutely."

I don't know when I fall asleep, but it must be around the beginning of the second film.


	7. You can have this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks down at me, mischief back in his eyes. He raises an eyebrow.
> 
> “So, ten years, eh? That’s not forever.” 
> 
> I chuckle, winking at him. 
> 
> “I’ll show you what that fancy word means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is here!

_Simon_  
When I wake up, I’m alone. It’s kinda late because the lightning in the room is a lot warmer than usual, so I decide to grab my laptop from the white room to check on my email. I’m not used to Baz’s fancy MacBook, so I don’t bother trying, because I always end up opening weird tabs and closing them simultaneously while trying to type.

The house is quiet, no sign of the kids or Baz himself as I pat barefoot down the hall until I reach the door to my what was supposed to be my room, but I stop short as I’m about to open it. From the next room, there’s yelling. _Shit._ It’s Baz’s dad’s room, but I can hear both of their voices coming from the inside, and I know it’s a really bad idea, but I can’t stop myself from standing very close to it. No hearing spell needed. I look around nervously as I place my ear on the cool wooden door.

“Basilton! You were supposed to apply! Did you think you would get away with this?”

Oh. Oxford. I brace myself.

“Father, I couldn’t do that. I can’t move away like that!” Baz’s voice is loud but controlled.

Mr Grimm speaks slowly like he’s trying to reason with a child. “You. don’t. understand. You are downgrading your future for a boy, for fuck's sake!” I close my eyes.

“And what if I am? Is it not enough? Don’t act like I’m not choosing properly!”

“You are destroying every single fucking family tradition. Do you think this relationship- this idiotic relationship- will matter in ten years?”

“Do you think-” Baz laughs dryly, “Do you think I will be slightly less fucking rich If I don’t graduate from Oxford? Less powerful?” I hear someone’s fist hitting the wall. I think it’s Baz’s.

“You can try and dress him up and pretend you’re choosing the right…” I stop listening right after that. I can’t hear it. It’s too painful.

Sometimes the truth comes to you in unexpected ways. What has been looming on my mind for days, even months comes back now. The truth I somehow knew but kept pushing on my ‘things not to think about’ list.

Baz is holding back. He is perfectly capable of getting into Oxford. And meeting new people with similar interests. Fucking hell, he could even be a violin soloist with the way he plays and has been training since he was a toddler. But he’s done none of those things. I am holding Baz back. He could be out there doing millions of things because he’s so bloody brilliant, but instead, he stays watching neurone-killing tv with his too-sad-to-go-out boyfriend.

By staying in London with me he is setting himself up for a life of half achievements, where we spend Christmases and Fridays talking to each other about shit that happened years ago. I could try to think about things I am bringing to the table for Baz, but if I focus, I can find none, except for maybe being a pretty boy he can kiss and sleep with to his liking. And this is somehow worse than hating him or killing him like everyone thought would happen. By halting his successful life, I am, in more than a way, killing him.

I don’t realise I’m crying until I shove the 26 polaroids I took of us during this break into an envelope and throw it on his bed. Grabbing one of his fancy pens and personalized ‘thank you’ cards from his nightstand, I scribble the only thing I never want him to forget.

Merlin, I am so in love with him. I smell his pillow one last time, committing his all too familiar scent to memory. Cedar and Bergamot. Us being in love right now is real, but I don’t think he’ll feel the same way about me when he looks back and sees what he missed because of me, always being a dead weight. Forcing him to include me in his future, making him choose stuff to be with me. Maybe my purpose in his life was to give him good first experiences so he can open up to other people, become an amazing boyfriend, amazing friend, brilliant kisser. And so far I have played my part. Maybe I am not his endgame, but I was a good beginning.

I am suffocating in this house, the home-like feeling from last night completely gone, so I grab my backpack, which contains all the stuff that’s actually mine, leave everything else in his room, anniversary gift included and book it. I don’t stop running until I catch a cab. Once I’m in the backseat, I block his number. I block him on Instagram. I don’t stop crying until I take the train.

Once I’m far enough away, I text Penny.

12:04 p.m. SS: it’s over  
12:04 p.m. SS: baz and I are over

Typing it brings back a new wave of tears, so I conclude that the only way to distract myself is to look for the address scribbled by Mr Grimm’s hand.

_Baz_

I stomp down the hall to my room. Father is acting like I haven’t been warning him for months about my plans for University, but I’m certain he’ll give this up eventually. I am yearning to be in Simon’s arms, just for a little while. His mere presence is soothing to me, giving me the patience to sort things out in my mind.  
I open the door and _oh._ He’s not sleeping anymore, but he must be in the shower and frankly, I wouldn't mind joining him. I don’t hear it running, and as I pass my bed, my eyes catch a glimpse of a yellow envelope on my bed. I stop dead in my tracks and sit down to look at it. A note (in his hideous penmanship) reads:

_Baz_

_You have given me the happiest experiences of my life and I will always watch you be on top of the world, from afar. I love you. Like a lot._

_Simon_

It’s signed, and I don’t understand it at all. The words are there, in my own card, but my brain can’t register why they are there. Is this a joke? My throat is feeling uncomfortably tight and as I reach into the envelope and pull out a stack of photos, it dawns on me.

He’s leaving me. My tears blur my view as I flip through them. Every single one of them is here, which means he didn’t take anything. Me playing the violin for him, taken from his point of view on the floor. Our first photo, right after our little gift exchange. Him standing near the window, the setting sun painting his profile golden. Me hiding behind a wine glass. Our tangled legs as we watched tv. Simon shoving a giant piece of cake in his mouth. These photos are the testament that our relationship is (or was) real, that I didn’t make this all up. I pace around the room, trying to piece together what the fuck happened. His suitcase is still here, sprawled open on the floor. His suit jacket is still discarded on top of on the sofa. I reach for it, and it smells heavenly. _Honey and sun and cinnamon rolls._ I hug it to me as if this would bring its ridiculous wearer back to me. His toothbrush, still in the bathroom, is a cruel reminder that he was here, in front of this mirror just last night. Making love to me, tracing his hands everywhere, making me believe in us over and over.

All the life that Simon breathed back into my life since last year seems to have been sucked out of me. My chest physically aches, and I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m sobbing anymore. No one can hear me anyway. I sink to the couch and reach for my phone, hitting his number on speed dial. The call doesn’t even go through. It leads me straight to voicemail, where his own voice tells me to leave a message. I hear my own laughter in the background, the memory of the day we set up his phone still alive in my mind. How can I ever survive a life where he isn’t next to me? I have done everything in my power to have him close-oh. Oh.

Fuck.

He heard my conversation with Father. This makes it all come together. How the fuck does he dare think he has been nothing to me? As If I hadn't spent the entirety of my adolescence falling in love with him. I decide the only logical step is to call the only person who has to know the full story.

She answers on the first ring. Like she has been expecting me to call. “Penelope?”  
“Basilton. You have to stop this nonsense.” Her voice comes through the phone, calm and lazy.

“I don’t even know what the fuck happened. I woke up and then I came back, and he was gone.” She sighs.

“He said you dropped Oxford for him. And that he’s holding you back.”

“What? I-Yes, but I had different reasons as well,” It all is starting to make sense now. “Where is he?”

“If I knew, I would tell you. But he said he was going to avoid the flat because you’d go there first.”

“Of course he would. Good.” I can’t help but sniffle into the phone. Fuck. I keep losing and losing.

“I don’t think this is really over, Baz.” In a softer voice, she whispers, “I’ve never seen anything quite like you guys. Don’t let him hurt himself or you like this.”

I tell her the only thing I haven’t told her. And she deserves to hear it. “Thank you, Penelope Bunce. For being my friend.”

I can almost hear her smiling through the phone as she mumbles, “I know, I know.”

Finding Simon is going to be a fucking mess, especially since I can’t call him, and Penelope isn’t going to be back for another week. I run my fingers through my hair. I probably need a haircut, but Snow insists I keep it long.  
There’s no point in staying here anymore. I place his suit jacket in the garment bag and proceed to pack my belongings and his. If he thinks he’s getting rid of me this easily, he’s deluded. I know I might not be an ideal boyfriend, but up until this moment, I’ve tried relentlessly to show him I’m completely invested in this relationship.

I am angry and devastated at the same time. Dev and Niall would mop around when they’d break up with their girlfriends (which mostly lasted for around three months), but I always thought they were exaggerating. Now I’m not so sure. Although I highly doubt their feelings for those girls were as strong as what I felt for Simon. I am so fucking angry at him, for not sparing me a second of his time to talk this out. I’m sure I could have convinced him to stay. Make him remember what we’ve always had and why we match.  
I will myself not to cry as I drag both suitcases into my car. It would be even more telling if Father catches me dragging Simon’s stuff out without him. I go back into the house one more time, to shower and change and as I’m leaving without saying goodbye to anybody, Daphne stops me in the front door. _For fuck's sake._ I keep a bored expression.

“Where is Simon?”

I raise an eyebrow. She was there when Father and I were having our little screaming match.  
“Gone. Mother, please don’t.” She startles me by leaning forward and grabbing my hand. So fucking awkward.  
“He is incredibly nice. Your mother would have liked him so much. In many ways, he resembles her.”

I am seconds away from crying, so I just nod and press my lips together to keep them from trembling.  
“Yeah.” Gently, I let her hand go. “Say goodbye to Mordelia for us.”

She clears her throat like she’s the one trying not to cry. “Will do. I’m sorry.”

I drive fast because I need to get to the flat and because Simon isn’t here. I don’t drive this recklessly often because he actually can get injured. I mean, I could too, but not as easily. I don’t fancy smashing him against the dashboard like I did the other night, so I’m more careful when he’s around. He is also paranoid about me getting a speeding ticket, even though frankly, between getting a ticket or killing him in an accident, I care more about the later.

I park far from where I usually do because I want to arrive unannounced. I fear that if he sees the car, he’s going to run before I get a word out. The street is unsurprisingly empty, and no one could understand how a grey and bland street like this one could have so many fond memories for me. I use my keys to get into the building, shivering as the cold radiating from the concrete walls greets me. Once I’m in front of Simon’s door, I can’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach as I notice the lack of noise or lights on. I don’t know why it surprises me when I was expecting it.

I use my own set of keys to let myself in, and everything is exactly as we left it a week ago. He hasn’t been here at all. I roll his suitcase into his room where our-his bed is still unmade from that day. I don’t know whether I should just sleep at Fiona’s but if you ask me, I have no idea of what she is up to on Boxing day, so I don’t dare. Besides, his room is comforting and familiar. And everything smells like him.

It feels both like torture and heaven being here. It’s torture because this might be my last night here, ever. Heaven because we’ve shared some of our happiest moments here, in this small flat, Bunce and even the American included. _Merlin_ I hope he shows up soon.  
As I flop into his side of the small Ikea bed, I notice I haven’t even eaten all day and that’s rare for me now. Since I’ve been dating Snow, he keeps reminding me to eat, even when I was away at Watford, he’d text me randomly to ask If I had had breakfast during exam week. Gestures like that remind me that he cares. But I still don’t know specifically what upset him so much that he bolted. If he only knew the energy and general joy he’s brought into my life, he’d be aware of how much I miss him right now. I call him once more, but I still get the voicemail. _Where are you, Simon Snow? Are you even in love with me?_

I wake up hours later when it’s already dark outside, but he’s not here yet. No sign of him out in the living area either. I can’t even focus on revising, reading or watching television. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I message him on the only place he forgot to block me: facebook.

9:32 p.m. Basilton Grimm-Pitch: Simon, talk to me

To my surprise, he doesn’t block me, and my message is marked read almost instantly. He takes his time to reply. I run my fingers through my hair, messing it up while waiting for his message.

9:35 p.m. Simon Snow: do u need your stuff frm the flat  
9:35 p.m. Simon Snow: I can put it in a box for you

So lame. Of course, I’m not messaging him for my fucking clothes. Still, it feels like he hit me. I think it hurt less the time punched me and ruined my nose.  
9:37 p.m. Basilton Grimm-Pitch: No. I want to talk.

9:45 p.m. Simon Snow: what’s there to talk about?

I’m beyond the point of maintaining my cool, unfazed façade, so I do the reasonable thing.

9:47 p.m. Basilton Grimm-Pitch: Us.

I almost drop my phone when the reply comes in form of a call. I take it immediately. This is now or never. I feel like every single word I say is going to be decisive in order to keep him talking to me. I clear my throat to sound slightly more dignified.

“Simon”

He is silent for a few moments. I take a breath.

“I need you” He’s crying hard and the way he speaks so quietly makes my heart ache. “Something ha-happened”

I’m already on my feet and grabbing my coat.

“Of course, love. Where are you?” He mumbles the name of an Inn, just outside the city. It’ll take me a while to get down there because of the bloody traffic.

“Mmm Baz, one more thing?”

“Yes.”

I hear him sigh. _Talk to me._ “this um, isn’t about us, no, we’re not back on.”

Ouch. “You are mental. I’m going now. I’ll be there, Simon”

We stay awkwardly silent for a few seconds, the moments where it would normally be filled by flirty banter.

“Be careful.” He hangs up and I lean my head on the steering wheel, steeling myself for this. I don’t think it’s going to end well. But I’d show up for him even if he was luring me into a numpty lair.

 

_Simon_

The only person in this world who could understand what I just learned about my mum is unironically, Baz. I was supposed to not see him ever again, but he started this journey with me, so it makes sense I tell him all this, as a goodbye.

I take a shower and lay back in bed, trying to gather my thoughts. This is something to think about. I have a family. A grandmother, and an uncle, and distant powerful relatives. I go through my phone, playing some music to distract myself. I think that today I’ve done enough crying for the next ten years. That is only If I ever get over Baz in that time, though.

There’s a soft knock at the door. I glance at the shitty alarm clock: 11:02. The Inn is incredibly silent and I’m on the third floor, so it only makes the silent more prominent. When I open the door, we don’t say anything. He makes eye contact, almost forcing me to do so as well. His eyes look sad and watery. They’re not bright or dismissive, just sad. Baz looks wrecked. His normally well-groomed hair looks slightly tangled, his clothes still clean but wrinkled, like he slept on them. He’s still wearing my necklace, neatly placed where the top button of his shirt is open, revealing his pale skin.  
As I look down to his hands, he’s got his car keys around his thumb, and around the rest of his fingers, he’s holding a takeout bag. Chinese. In his other hand, he’s carrying a Tesco bag.

“Baz.”

_Baz_

He’s wearing my old Watford football sweatshirt. Which I thought I had lost. Interesting choice, given our status. He knows it’s mine, I think, but I wouldn’t put it over him to forget about it. As we stand there, staring at each other, a door opens from the room next door, and a woman in her forties comes out and pretends to be on her phone. So goddamn nosy.

_Yeah, yeah, I’m here on a booty call._ I wish.

Snow notices too and glances at her and then at me. I grab his hand, just to spite her even more. _Yeah, yeah. We’re gay and young. And good looking._ He pulls me into the room, and for a second there, I think he’s going to kiss me against the wall. But no, he just closes the door behind me. I am devastated at this.

“Come in.”

“Just did.”

He rolls his eyes and for the longest of times, he gazes at me, his blue eyes slowly filling with tears. I am breaking, too.

“Can we talk?” His voice is shaky.

“Sure.” He steals a couple of furtive looks at the takeout bag. I thought I’d bring him some of his favourite comfort foods, and If I’m being honest, the double serving of orange chicken and spring rolls is for me too. “Do you want to eat first?”

He gives me a small smile, not meeting my eyes.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

We vacuum the entire contents of three takeout boxes, washing it down with bottled water from the minibar. This room is so small and crappy, I’m surprised there’s one. I’ve never been in an Inn like this. My parents prefer another kind of accommodation on the occasions we’ve been abroad. They also give me a separate room even if they’re staying in a suite, which teenage me is eternally grateful for.

We don’t talk a lot, except for the occasional comment about Mordelia or the weather. It’s going to be a pain to leave later because it’s been snowing since I arrived here. But I don’t think he’s going to ask me to stay, either. I would.

He reaches back into the bed to grab his phone and pauses his music. The TV is on but on mute, filling the room with faint blue light. The rest of the lights are off, except for a small bedside lamp. We’re sitting on top of the questionable carpeted floor, but there’s nowhere else where I’d rather be right now. Eating on the floor with my ex. I don’t really think we are over, though.

I clear my throat. “What happened today, Snow?”

I am trying to give him an opening so he can talk about his mother or our relationship. He decides on the first.

“I went to the address your dad gave me the other day at the Club.”

I fix my eyes on his face, his pretty eyes looking down. I nod.

“It was Lady Salisbury’s. Lucy Salisbury’s mom. My grandma.”

I reach forward and grab his hand. He lets me. “You have a family. A real one.”

He nods. “It’s strange. To know someone was looking for me. She said every time she saw an article on the paper with my photo, she’d see the resemblance between me and Lucy-my mum.”

“Why didn’t she reach out?”

He shrugs. “She thought I was younger.”

Looking at him in his sweats and my hoodie, damp curls, I can see how. He looks younger than his 19 years.“Yeah. Maybe. How are you feeling about it?”

He gives me a sad smile.

“Relieved. My mum didn’t dump me because I was unwanted. She couldn’t even make the choice for herself. Davy did.” He’s crying now, tears rolling softly down his cheeks.

I trace circles softly on the back of his hand. My love. “Of course she didn’t. No one would.”

“I don’t think I’m up for Sunday dinner or moving into her house, though. Maybe in the future, but I don’t know them at all.”

“Did she offer it at all?”

“Yeah. To give me a trust fund and all.” I raise my eyebrow.

“You can choose to do so, Simon. Or not. It’s your right.”

He presses his palm onto his eye socket. He’s sobbing now. His eyelashes glistening with tiny teardrops. I am too tempted to scoot to the side and hold him. I do. He doesn’t even flinch, instead, he buries his head on my shoulder.

“It’s all right, love. You can think this one through.”

“It’s just-“ he sniffles loudly into my shirt. He smells like hotel soap, but he’s so, so warm, I don’t ever want him to stop clinging onto me. “He knew. And he never sent me with them”

I am furious. Simon could have had a decent childhood. Plenty of food to eat every day, a warm bed, Christmas presents. But the Mage denied it to him. Of course, he wouldn’t have been able to control him if someone else had raised Simon, instead, he pretty much left him to raise himself. I tell him all of this. He sobs harder, almost rhythmically and my whole body moves with his. We’re not in a really comfortable position, leaning awkwardly against the bed, but somehow this is enough.

“I’m here for you. For all of this. I know their family, I can tell you some stuff about them.”  
He’s silent for a while. Discreetly, I bury my nose in his curls because I don’t know whether or not I’ll be able to do this ever again.

“No.” his voice is a whisper. “There’s so much more stuff out there for you. I’ll manage.”

This pisses me off even more.

“How can you say that? You are the most important thing to me right now- “

He stills, and gently leaves my grip, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Fuck.

“Baz. Stop. You don’t have to do anything for me anymore.”

I look down, fiddling with my shirt. “Why?” I meet his eyes. “Give me one good fucking reason.”

Slowly, he says, “Because I’m not your boyfriend anymore.”

I wish he had punched me instead.

“What changed in a damned day?”

He looks down, his eyes red, still sniffling. “I heard you and your dad. What he said, it’s true.”

“I didn’t drop Oxford for you. Kind of, but not really. I didn’t want to go there in the first place. I wanted a school more focused on what I’m actually going to do. And I wanted to be with you. And near Fi. You know all this.”

He is quiet for the longest of times. I don’t think we’ve been this uncomfortable together, ever.

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I am holding you back.”

“I’m not dating you out of charity, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I spit back. “I actually want to be with you.”

“Why? You can have anyone else you want. You’re fit, so fucking smart, talented, cultured, rich…”

“Yeah. But you’re everything I actually want.”

He smiles, shy. That one got him, I think.

“I’m nothing, Baz. I barely have money, I’m not powerful anymore, not really. I’m not even funny.”

I snort. “You are those things. And an outstanding kisser, and cheeky, and ridiculously handsome. And you’re genuinely smart. And you love me. Vampire asshole, and all.”

He jerks his head up.

“I don’t see that, at all. I don’t want to be your priority. In ten years, you’re going to regret me.” His chin is up, challenging me. I jut mine out as well.

“If, and only if,” I say, pausing. Letting it sink into his thick skull. “If miraculously you’ve managed to stand me for ten more years, I think I’d be thankful, Snow.”

He chuckles. “You are crazy. Completely off your nut. You’re downgrading.”

I reach forward, and he holds my hand this time. “How can the Chosen One be a downgrade? I’d say there’s no one quite up there?”

He rolls his eyes. “Mmm not anymore.”

“I chose you, remember?”

“Sap.”

“Unless there’s something else…”

His eyes dart to mine, looking panicked. “No, Baz. I don’t think I could feel quite like this about anyone else.”

My whole body sags with relief. Good. I look down, picking at my fingernails.

“Why can’t we be together then? We’re only making each other miserable.”

“Because you’re not made to sit around in crappy flats watching telly. Or have dinner at shit Inns with your depressed ex-boyfriend.”

“Says who?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Says your whole royal family. You were literally bred for greatness.”

Idiot. Snow is on crack if he thinks I’m being slightly convinced to leave him.

“And I can’t be great with you by my side? Give me a break. My mum was _ten years older_ than I am when she became Watford’s headmistress. I’ll get there.” Besides, Father wasn’t exactly what my grandparents wanted for her, but she still married him.

“Well, um. I didn’t think of that.”

“Exactly. Besides, I could give you plenty of reasons about why I’m clearly the one who is terribly falling short of the mark. Ever since everything went to hell, things have been going great...for me. I ended up taking home the boy I wanted. You avenged my mother. I even gained Bunce as a friend.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. But you’re well...you. People are going to talk, about how I landed you.” _This idiot._

I meet his eyes. “This isn’t about who gets who or who lands or takes, whatever that even means. This is about what you want, and what I want. And ‘that’ is you, if that’s alright.”  
Softly, he says, “C’mere. You mug.” I snort, but I’m on my knees, holding him as he does the same. He tucks his head under my chin. It’s awkward, kneeling in the middle of the room, plastic bags to the side, but I wouldn’t have any other way. “I’m sorry I bolted. And blocked you.”

I chuckle. “And yet I’m here.”

“Baz?”

“Yes?” He’s looking up at me, his eyes still damp. I’m sure mine look like that as well. He raises his thumb to my face, and gently he runs it across my lower lip. I let my eyes close. 

“Can I kiss you?”

I let my mouth on his be the response.

After a while, we’re cuddling beneath the bleach-smelling hotel sheets. We didn't have sex because it felt like that'd be pushing it too far, but we still wanted to be close to each other. Our relationship feels delicate and fragile, but it's mended. The room is still dark except for the faint light emanating from the television and the heating is on full blast, and there’s an air of silence an peace which can only be attributed to a hotel room at 2 a.m. 

Softly, I break the silence, “I’m still your family. Even if you want to meet your relatives, or not. I’m going to stick around, Simon.”

I know he’s smiling, and when I look up, his eyes are closed, the faintest of smiles is there. I kiss my favourite mole on his cheek.

“I know. I love you.”

He runs his fingers down my hair, untangling it as he goes.

I continue, “I mean it. Even if one day you want to try dating someone else, I’d still be your...friend.”

I feel his head moving on the bed. He’s shaking his head.

“Stop. We don’t need to plan any of this. I know that right now, you’re here.”  
“I’m glad that’s sorted.”

He looks down at me, mischief back in his eyes. He raises an eyebrow.

“So, ten years, eh? That’s not forever.” 

I chuckle, winking at him. 

“I’ll show you what that fancy word means.”

#### EPILOGUE

_Baz_

It doesn’t happen on our first trip to America, when Penelope takes us to Chicago to visit Micah, just two years after finishing Watford.

It doesn’t happen on our first solo trip to Paris either. I thought Snow was going to pull a classic Paris proposal, but no. Just a nice, romantic dinner for our anniversary.

Neither it does happen on our fifth anniversary, when we’re sightseeing in New York, on top of the Empire State building. (It just happened to be mysteriously empty because of the terrible weather.)

So, when it happens three and a half years later, when I’m twenty-seven years old, I don’t expect it at all. In fact, it had been years since my heart stopped racing whenever we were in a romantic setting, anniversary trip, or fancy restaurant date.

When it does happen, Snow asks me to play for him because he’s feeling down. He’s had a bad night.  
As I open my violin case, a small, black box rolls down from it. There, in our shared office, at 9 a.m. on a summer Sunday morning, he gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.

I’d almost thought he was joking, if it hadn't been for the way his hands were shaking and his voice cut around the part where he said _no one could get him like I do._ Of course I said yes. And of course, I played for him. Granted, it was a happier song than the one that I had in mind, but still.

In between her kids screaming, Penelope rolled her eyes and said “finally”. When I called my parents to let them know it was happening, Father replied with, “Very well. He warned us since Christmas. Congratulations.” I had a small heart attack (that is, if my heart actually beats) when I heard that.

I proposed three months after that one, using magic as a way to bind us properly. To outdo Bunce in our little proposal competition, I hung Simon Snow a star in space. I took his hands, and just like that time when we were eighteen, I took us into the night sky.

> “I have loved you for a longer portion of my life that I haven’t, Simon Snow. I can’t even remember what it was like when I thought my heart could never feel full of you.
> 
> And you’ve seen the best and worst of me.  
>  You’ve been the sun all along, guiding me and making life seem warmer, happier, shinier than I ever thought that could happen.
> 
> I might not be able to give you back the sunlight you’ve given me, but I’m putting up a star in space for you. To guide you, to illuminate you in your darkest nights. 
> 
> For you to look at whenever your soul feels particularly dull.
> 
> And I want to spend forever with you. Even when we both no longer exist on this earth; this star will remain forever binding us.
> 
> Simon Snow, will you marry me?” 

He cried, and I cried. And I had succesfully fulfilled my wildest teenage fantasy. A week later, Normal scientists on the news named our star, but screw them, that’s ours. 

Apparently, Snow wanted to wait until he graduated as a doctor before he started on the wedding topic. I am glad he did although I finished Uni way before he did. Nothing much changed except for the fact we moved into a much fancier flat. Simon said it’s a mansion without a garden. I told him I wasn’t going to confine myself to a two-bedroom apartment for the rest of my life. 

Then, we learned that the rest of my life is about as long as Simon’s. We asked Nicodemus. He told us to take a look at him. He did look forty, so that’s settled.

Simon took my last name because I said I’d rather die than drop any of mine. I still feel like I’m about to wake up from my dream every time we send a Christmas card with Snow-Pitch family written on my perfect calligraphy. As I’m doing right now, sitting on the living room floor, right next to the fireplace, addressing envelopes to his family and mine. I do it because we all know his handwriting is atrocious. 

I hear his key turning in the lock. Click, click. The door opening. He comes in, white coat in his arm. He drapes it on the back of the couch.

“Snow.”

I smile. It gets easier and easier to not try to hide whatever I’m feeling. And I haven’t properly seen him since yesterday because he got up at 5 a.m. today, so I feel like a damn puppy.

He kisses me briefly as he drops himself on the carpet next to me. “You’re home.”

“Have been for the past three hours.”

He rolls his eyes. “You done with those yet?” 

I slide the card into the envelope addressed to lady Salisbury “Mmm. Almost.”

Our cat, Ebb comes meowing as she hears his voice and settles herself on his lap. He scratches the spot behind her ears. I tell him about my day briefly while he lays his head on my shoulder. So domestic.

As I finish rambling, he stares at me. I blush.

“What is it, love?”

“I’ve missed your voice.” I take his hand. 

“It’s only been a day, Snow.” But I’ve missed his voice, too. 

“S’too long.”

I pull him to me, kissing him to make up for his long day.

We order our takeout dinner because we can’t be bothered to cook, and while we wait for it we head upstairs to pack for Christmas in Hampshire. Only this time, things aren’t delicate, and we’re visiting my parents, who have completely warmed up to Simon and have been nagging us to come to visit them for two years now.

This is much more than I bargained for when I said he could have _this_ if he wanted it. Because he gave me a life which I could never have prepared myself for. 

And for a little while, while we’re eating our dinner listening to Christmas carols, (his choice) I allow myself to think we will carry on like this, together and solid and in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!  
> If you made it this far, I want to thank you for reading this story, for your lovely comments, for leaving kudos. It truly means the world to me because I truly enjoy writing, and although I felt stuck on some parts of this story, I still loved the way it turned out.
> 
> It might still have some mistakes which I didn't notice the first time (because I don't have a beta :( ) But I might correct them later :) I might take a break from writing fics because I went from the last one straight to this one in like two days, but I'll definitely be back with a one-shot (my first one!) in about a week or two :)
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment about this story, anything you'd like!! They truly brighten my day.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!!! All the love in the world,  
> -MP  
> P.S. I'm crazy excited for Wayward Son coming in 2019!!


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